[See  page  288. 

"GERVASE  DROPPED  NOISELESSLY  INTO  THE  WATER" 


THE    CRIMSON     SIGN 

A  Narrative  of  the  Adventures  of 

Mr.  Gervase    Orme,  Sometime 

Lieutenant  in  Mountjoyis 

Regiment  of  Foot 


S.  R.  KEIGHTLEY 

AUTHOR    OF     "  THE    CAVALIERS " 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

1898 


BY   THE   SAME   AUTHOR. 


THE  CAVALIERS.   A  Novel.   By  S.  U.  KEIGHTLEY. 
Illustrated.    Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

"  The  Cavaliers  "  is  healthy  in  tone,  spirited  in  treatment, 
and  written  in  a  manner  calculated  to  attract  lovers  of  his- 
torical adventure.  ...  A  capital  book. — Academy,  London. 

PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  OF   WHAT   BEFELL   ON    THE  ROAD   TO  ENNISKILLEN  .     .  I 

II.  OF   THE   ENTERTAINMENT   THEY   HAD   AT   THE   INN  .     .  28 

III.  OF    THE   WAY   MY   LORD   GALMOY   SAT   IN  JUDGMENT    .  44 

IV.  OF   HOW   THE   VICOMTE   PAID   HIS    DEBT 54 

V.      OF   A  MAN'S   MEMORY 69 

VI.  OF    HOW   THE   HEROINE    COMES   UPON    THE   STAGE.     .     .  8 1 

VII.  OF  THE   RESCUE   FROM   GREAT   PERIL IOI 

VIII.  OF   THE   RETURN   TO   THE    CITY 130 

IX.  OF   HOW    CAPTAIN   MACPHERSON  FULFILLED  HIS  TRUST.  1 5  I 

X.      OF    THE   STAND   IN   THE   TRENCHES 159 

XI.      OF   A   SERIOUS  COMMUNICATION 184 

xn.     OF  A  WARM  MORNING'S  WORK 195 

XIII.       OF   A    STRATAGEM    OF  WAR 2O8 

XTV.      OF   A  GAME   OF   CHANCE 222 

XV.  OF   HOW   THE   VICOMTE   WAS   BROUGHT   BACK   TO   LIFE.  245 

XVI.      OF  A  DEED  OF  TREACHERY 259 

XVH.      OF   A   GREAT   ADVENTURE 280 

XVIII.      OF   HOW   GERVASE   REACHED   THE   SHIPS 304 

XIX.      OF   A   STORMY   INTERVIEW 313 

XX.  OF   HOW   THE   GREAT   DELIVERANCE   WAS   WROUGHT    .  325 

XXI.  OF  HOW  THE  VICOMTE  MADE  HIS  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.  336 


2229067 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"GERVASE     DROPPED     NOISELESSLY     INTO     THE 

WATER" Frontispiece 

"THE    STRANGER   CAUGHT    HIS    HORSE   BY    THE 

REIN  " Facing  page     62 

"SHE  STOPPED  SHORT  AND  LOOKED  ROUND  HER 

CAUTIOUSLY" "         188 

"  JASPER  BUCKLING  HIS  SWORD  ABOUT  HIM "    ,     .          "         254 


THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

CHAPTER  I. 

OF   WHAT  BEFELL  ON  THE   ROAD   TO  ENNISKILLEN. 

IN  the  year  of  grace  1689  men  were  not  a  whit 
more  long-suffering  nor  more  patient  than  they  are 
to-day.  The  choleric  captain  who  had  been  pacing 
the  guard-room  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  showed  evident 
signs  that  he  was  fast  losing  what  temper  he  possessed. 
As  he  marched  with  a  hasty  stride  up  and  down  the 
oaken  floor,  and  wheeled  with  military  abruptness  on 
the  broad  stone  that  formed  the  hearth,  the  rafters  of 
black  oak  rang  with  the  clank  of  his  sword  and 
the  jingling  of  the  spurs  on  his  heavy  jack-boots. 
He  pulled  with  a  gesture  of  impatience  at  the  grizzled 
white  moustache  that  concealed  his  mouth,  and 
muttered  anathemas  which,  had  they  been  heard  in 
the  pious  city  of  Londonderry,  would  have  been 
deemed  little  in  keeping  with  his  reputation.  Nor 
did  he  seem  a  man  with  whom  others  would  take 
unwarrantable  liberties,  or  keep  dangling  upon  their 
careless  will  and  pleasure. 

At  first  sight  there  was  no  mistaking  him  for 
anything  but  a  soldier,  and  one  who  had  seen  length- 
ened service  where  hard  blows  had  been  struck  and 
long  marches  had  to  be  made.  His  lean  face  was 
brown  and  seamed  with  lines,  each  of  which  had 


2  THE   CRIMSON  SIGN. 

in  all  likelihood  its  history;  and  a  great  scar,  half 
concealed  by  his  broad  beaver,  ran  from  the  temple 
almost  to  his  chin.  His  mouth  was  firm  and  resolute, 
giving  its  character  to  a  face  that  did  not  seem  apt 
either  to  lighten  in  humour  or  to  soften  in  pity. 
He  wore  his  own  hair,  which  was  nearly  white, 
and,  though  he  must  have  been  close  on  sixty,  his 
carriage  was  upright  and  soldierly,  with  a  certain 
stiffness,  probably  learnt  in  early  life  from  the  drill- 
master. 

The  Town  clock  struck  five.  Halting  suddenly 
in  his  walk  he  turned  to  the  door,  and  his  hand 
was  on  the  latch  when  a  young  man  entered  hur- 
riedly and  stumbled  against  him.  When  they  recovered 
themselves,  they  stood  looking  at  one  another  inquir- 
ingly for  a  moment.  Then  the  young  fellow,  who 
wore  a  military  uniform,  drew  back  a  step  and 
saluted  gravely.  "You  are  Captain  Macpherson,  I 
think?" 

"  I  was  Captain  Macpherson,  sir,"  the  other  an- 
swered, "  a  moment  since,  but  what  I  am  now  I 
hardly  know  till  my  wits  come  back.  You  have  a 
strange  way  of  forcing  your  company  on  your 
neighbours. " 

"  Such  sudden  acquaintanceship  was  wholly  unex- 
pected, I  assure  you,  sir,"  the  young  man  answered, 
with  a  pleasant  smile  that  lit  up  his  handsome  face. 
"  I  was  directed  to  meet  you  here.  My  name  is  Orme." 

The  old  soldier,  without  speaking,  retired  into  the 
embrasure  of  the  window  followed  by  the  younger 
man,  and  then  turned  round  sternly. 


ON  THE  ROAD   TO   ENNISKILLEN.  3 

"Mr.  Orme,  you  must  know  it  hath  struck  five  by 
the  Town  clock.  A  soldier's  first  duty  is  discipline,  and 
here  have  I,  your  commanding  officer,  for  such  I  take 
myself  to  be,  been  awaiting  your  coming  a  full 
quarter  of  an  hour.  I  have  been  in  countries  where 
the  provost-marshal  would  have  known  how  to  deal 
with  such  offences.  Cities  have  been  sacked  and 
great  battles  lost  and  won,  py  less  delay  than  that. " 

"I  have  left  the  Colonel  but  now,  sir.  He  said 
nothing  of  the  time,  but  told  me  that  I  should  meet 
you  here." 

*  Very  like,  very  like, "  growled  the  other.  "  I 
know  the  breed  of  old.  Feather-bed  soldiers  who  need 
a  warming-pan  in  camp.  They  take  no  heed  of  time. 
I  was  brought  up  in  a  different  school,  and  would 
have  you  know  that  while  you  keep  me  company, 
you  must  learn  my  ways.  How  long  have  you 
served?"  He  asked  the  question  abruptly,  bending 
on  his  companion  a  keen  and  penetrating  look  that 
nothing  seemed  to  escape. 

"I  have  carried  the  colours  for  nearly  two  years- 
in  Mountjoy's  regiment." 

"  And  never  seen  man  stricken  in  fair  fight,  I 
warrant ;  that  is  before  you  and  will  come  speedily. 
Hath  Colonel  Lundy  spoken  of  the  work  we  are 
about  to  take  in  hand  ?  " 

"  Only  that  I  was  to  receive  my  instructions  from 
you,  and  place  myself  under  your  orders." 

"  That  is  well,  at  any  rate.  You  are  green  and 
tender  for  the  business,  but  you  may  show  the 
right  stuff  when  the  time  comes.  Things  are  going 


4  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

crookedly  here  in  Londonderry  and  elsewhere,  Mr. 
Orme.  We  go  neither  back  nor  forward,  but  stand 
swaying  like  men  who  know  not  whether  to  turn 
to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left.  We  would  fight 
but  we  dare  not;  we  would  flee  but  we  cannot. 
And  all  the  while  there  are  stout  fellows  here  who 
would  handle  a  musket  or  trail  a  pike  with  the 
best  troops  in  Europe,  if  there  were  a  man  to  lead 
them.  These  cursed  councils  and  divided  plans 
breed  nothing  but  failure.  You  will  see  Hamilton 
with  his  levies  across  the  Bann  and  round  the  wall 
of  Londonderry,  before  the  month  is  out." 

"  I  humbly  trust  not,  but  if  we  do  never  fear  but 
we  shall  give  a  good  account  of  ourselves." 

The  old  soldier  smiled  dubiously.  "  There  is  plenty 
of  talk  and  furbishing  of  weapons,  but  little  of  the 
strict  drill  and  discipline  that  makes  soldiers;  I  am 
but  a  plain  man  myself  and  I  have  spoken  out 
plainly.  The  city  is  open  as  a  village.  There  are 
ramparts  to  be  strengthened,  ravelines  and  fascines 
to  be  constructed,  supplies  to  be  furnished,  and 
arms  to  be  collected.  We  talk  of  standing  a  leaguer, 
as  if  these  things  would  do  themselves.  But  needs 
must  when  the  Devil  drives,  and  I  know  whither 
that  carries.  These  councils  have  many  tongues 
and  no  head.  They  put  forth  declarations  and  think 
all  is  done  when  they  set  their  hands  to  paper  with 
much  spluttering  of  ink.  I  remember  when  Fran- 
cesco de  Mello  and  de  Fuentes But  that  is  an  old 

story  and  may  be  told  again." 

"I  doubt  not,"  said  Orme,   "you  have  ripe  expe- 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  ENNISKILLEN.  5 

rience,  but  I  would  do  my  own  work  like  a  simple 
gentleman,  and  leave  these  things  to  those  whose 
business  they  are." 

'Fairly  rebuked.  You  are  right,  my  lad,  and  I 
am  an  old  fool  to  stand  prating  of  what  hath  no 
concern  for  you.  But  'tis  an  old  trick  of  mine  to 
find  fault  where  I  cannot  mend.  Natheless,  the 
onfall  at  the  castle  of  Carrickfergus  and  the  break 
of  Dromore  give  me  cause  to  grumble,  and  Rawdon 
and  Beresford  and  the  rest  of  them  might  have 
taken  a  lesson  from  a  plain  soldier  like  myselfj 
that  they  might  have  profited  by.  They  think  me 
only  good  enough  to  fetch  and  carry,  spaniel-like — 
and  you  say  that  Colonel  Lundy  hath  told  you 
nothing?  " 

•Merely  that  I  should  place  myself  at  your  dis- 
posal; nothing  else." 

•We  ride  pell-mell  for  Enniskillen;  you  and  I 
and  some  dozen  troopers,  less  or  more,  without 
drawing  bridle  or  tarrying  by  the  way.  There  is 
a  precious  cartel  these  Enniskilleners  must  digest 
forthwith,  inviting  them  to  leave  the  safety  of  their 
water-walls  and,  as  I  hear,  good  store  of  provender, 
to  take  their  chance  with  us  and  fight  it  out  behind 
these  petty  dykes  and  fences  here.  If  they  ask 
counsel  of  mine — but  it  is  our  business  to  see 
that  it  carries  safely." 

•I  had  hoped,"  said  Orme,  "that  we  might  have 
seen  some  service;  this  doth  not  hold  out  much  hope 
of  that." 

•Hear  how   these  young  cockerels  are  given  to 


6  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

crowing!"  cried  Macpherson;  "I  promise  you  this 
means  no  evening  stroll  upon  the  battlements,  but 
a  work  of  danger  which  may  try  your  mettle.  I 
mean  not  the  gathering  of  the  desperadoes  who 
make  war  upon  the  defenceless,  though  these  have 
stood  to  their  half- pikes  and  other  outlandish  weapons 
ere  now,  but  I  am  much  mistaken  if  the  royal  troops 
be  not  on  the  roads  and  give  us  play  enough.  In 
this  barbarous  country  we  do  not  look  for  the 
courtesies  of  war,  or  even  the  interchange  of 
prisoners;  my  Lord  Galmoy  and  others,  whom  I 
hope  to  remember,  have  shown  that  a  gentleman 
can  play  the  hangman,  and  a  soldier  hath  other 
trades  than  fighting.  The  journey  is  like  to  prove 
adventurous  though  it  end  in  nothing.  See  that 
your  horse  be  sure  and  fresh,  and  your  pistols  such 
that  a  man  may  place  his  life  on  them.  I  remem- 
ber me  when  my  life  was  placed  in  jeopardy 
once  by  a  rotten  girth.  It  was  in  Flanders  in  sixty- 
nine — but  this  gossip  hath  no  interest  for  you.  It 
were  more  to  the  purpose  that  I  told  you  we 
set  out  at  three  in  the  morning  with  what 
secrecy  we  can  observe,  and  that  you  meet  me  at 
the  Bishop's  gate.  Hackett,  who  is,  I  am  told,  a 
sergeant  of  your  company,  and  knows  the  country, 
will  bring  our  horses  to  the  gate.  You  know  the 
man;  of  what  character  is  he?" 

"As  true  and  loyal  as  any  in  the  city — the  best 
man,  I  think,  in  the  regiment." 

"And  discreet?  these  good  men  are  ofttimes 
inconsiderate. " 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  ENNISKILLEN.  7 

"He  is  no  babbler,  sir,"  Orme  answered,  somewhat 
nettled  by  the  tone  of  his  companion,  "  though  a 
pious  man  and  God-fearing." 

"I,  Ninian  Macpherson,  like  him  none  the  worse 
for  that,  young  gentleman,"  answered  the  other 
gravely,  "  Our  religion  hath  placed  you  and  me,  I 
humbly  trust,  in  arms  this  day,  and  sends  us  forth 
on  this  embassage  to  the  no  small  peril  of  our  lives. 
But  the  ways  of  grace  are  not  always  the  ways  of 
worldly  prudence,  and  it  behoves  me  who  am 
answerable  for  our  safety  to  act  with  diligence- 
Now,  look  you,  Mr.  Orme,  I  have  watched  you 
carefully,  and  I  think  you  honest — dull  it  may  be 
but  honest,  and  I  speak  you  plainly.  I  am  suspi- 
cious of  your  colonel — I  do  not  understand  his  ways. 
There  is  treason  in  the  air,  though  who  is  free 
and  who  is  touched  I  hardly  know,  but  I  who  have 
lived  among  designing  men  for  nigh  on  seven-and- 
fifty  years  think  I  know  somewhat  of  honest  work, 
and  I  was  fearful  this  was  but  another  trap." 

"  I  think,  sir,  Colonel  Lundy  is  honest  and  devoted 
to  Their  Majesties." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  you  do,  but  we  shall  see.  The 
citizens  will  give  him  a  short  shrift  if  they  find  him 
a  rogue.  But  I  had  liked  to  see  such  zeal  as 
befits  one  who  commands  a  city,  and  would  not 
be  taken  unprepared.  When  the  regiments  arrive 
from  England  they  will  find  their  entertainment  of 
the  poorest.  If  empty  magazines  and  disordered 
companies  are  evidence  of  loyalty  you  might  find  a 
sign  to  hang  up  before  every  house  in  the  city. 


8  THE   CRIMSON  SIGN. 

But  Ulster  hath  a  proud  heart  and  a  stiff  neck  and 
will  fight  when  she  is  pushed." 

"  The  Kingdom's  safety  and  the  Protestant  religion 
depend  upon  her  stoutness;  she  will  die  hard." 

"It  may  come  to  that.  Now,  young  gentleman, 
get  you  gone.  He  that  would  be  early  afoot  should 
be  early  abed,  and  see  that  you  get  to  rest  be- 
times. Let  there  be  no  late  revelling.  We  meet 
at  three." 

Gervase  Orme  who  had  been  lately  an  ensign 
in  Mountjoy's  regiment  of  foot,  had  been  quartered 
with  his  company  in  Londonderry,  when  his  Colonel 
was  appointed  Governor  of  the  City.  Like  other 
gentlemen  of  his  faith  he  had  not  wavered  in  his 
allegiance  or  dreamed  of  taking  up  arms  against 
the  House  of  Stuart,  till  loyalty  had  become  a 
crime  and  resistance  an  imperative  duty.  His  own 
slender  patrimony  was  in  peril;  his  faith  was 
threatened  and  in  danger  of  being  proscribed;  his 
friends,  whose  safety  and  honour  were  his  own,  were 
placed  at  the  mercy  of  their  bitter  and  hereditary 
foes.  Civil  war  was  imminent;,  and  he  could  not 
hesitate  as  to  the  course  he  should  adopt.  James 
had  broken  faith  with  his  people;  the  native  Celtic 
population,  steadfast  in  this,  while  they  were  wayward 
and  fickle  in  all  else,  were  determined  to  drive  the 
English  garrison  into  the  sea,  and  the  instincts  of 
religion  and  of  race  intensified  their  hatred  of  the 
dominant  caste. 

When  Colonel  Lundy  took  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  William  and  Mary,  Gervase  Orme  willingly 


ON   THE  ROAD   TO  ENNISKILLEN.  Q 

followed  the  example  of  his  Colonel,  and  embarked 
with  enthusiasm  on  the  impending  struggle.  To 
him  it  was  the  one  course  left  open,  and  he  felt, 
like  the  other  simple  gentlemen  of  his  time,  that 
when  he  drew  his  sword  it  was  for  fatherland,  for 
faith,  and  even  for  life  itself.  Nor  did  he  very  much 
doubt  the  result.  The  descendent  of  a  Saxon 
colonist  he  looked  down  on  the  men  of  Munster 
and  of  Connaught  as  a  race  fit  only  for  hewing 
wood  and  drawing  water,  for  Fontenoy  and  other 
stricken  fields  had  yet  to  be  fought  in  which  the 
Irish  proved  their  splendid  qualities  as  fighting  men. 
And  he  had  the  Saxon's  profound  faith  in  himself 
and  his  people. 

Therefore  it  was  when  Colonel  Lundy  had 
directed  him  to  place  himself  under  Macpherson's 
orders,  with  some  prospect  of  service,  he  had  obeyed 
with  alacrity,  hopeful  that  their  destination  might 
be  one  of  those  towns  upon  the  Bann  where  the 
Protestant  forces  were  awaiting  the  coming  of  the 
Irish  army  which  was  rapidly  advancing  north. 
In  this  he  had  been  disappointed,  but  he  was 
glad  to  forsake  for  a  time  the  comparative  in- 
activity of  garrison  life,  and  almost  hoped  that 
Macpherson's  anticipation  of  danger  might  be 
realized. 

The  night  was  raw  and  cold  when  he  arose 
unwillingly  from  his  bed,  and  his  preparations  being 
complete  overnight,  hurriedly  dressed  and  endeav- 
oured to  partake  of  the  meal  his  careful  land- 
lady had  provided  the  evening  before.  When  he 


10  THE   CRIMSON  SIGN. 

reached  the  gate  Macpherson  was  already  there 
before  him.  The  old  soldier,  wrapped  in  a  long 
military  cloak,  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
wall,  reading  from  a  small  volume  in  a  loud  mono- 
tonous tone,  and  the  men  were  drawn  in  a  circle 
round  him,  holding  their  horses  by  the  bridle.  One 
of  the  troopers  held  a  lantern  for  the  reader,  who 
closed  the  book  as  Orme  came  up,  and  thrust  it 
into  his  breast. 

"You  are  close  on  your  time,  Mr.  Orme.  We 
have  just  been  having  our  stirrup-cup  from  the 
Word,  that,  mayhap,  will  put  us  in  heart  for  our 
cold  ride.  'Tis  an  excellent  morning  dram.  The 
sergeant  hath  seen  to  the  arms  and  tells  me  they 
will  serve." 

"  Both  arms  and  men,  sir, "  said  Hackett,  in  a 
low  tone,  "I  will  answer  for  them  with  my  life." 

"'Tis  well.  Now  open  the  gate  and  get  to 
horse,  for  we  must  put  many  a  mile  between  us 
and  the  city  before  daybreak.  A  mile  at  the  start 
is  worth  two  at  the  end." 

Macpherson  leapt  with  surprising  activity  on 
the  grey  charger  that  Hackett  had  brought  down 
to  the  gate,  and  the  little  troop  sat  patiently  on 
their  horses  waiting  till  the  drawbridge  had  been 
lowered  and  the  great  gate  swung  open.  With  a 
solemn  *  God  speed"  from  the  men  on  duty,  they 
rode  silently  out  into  the  darkness,  Hackett  leading 
at  a  round  trot  over  the  rough  and  broken  road. 

For  three  hours  they  pursued  their  way  in  a 
silence  broken  only  by  an  occasional  word  of  com- 


ON  THE  ROAD   TO   ENNISKILLEN.  II 

mand,  or  by  a  cry  of  warning  from  one  of  the 
troopers  who  had  stumbled  over  some  obstacle,  or 
had  floundered  deep  in  the  bog  by  the  road  side. 
They  were  all  rejoiced  to  see  the  first  grey  streak 
of  light  that  gave  promise  of  the  coming  day. 

The  morning  had  broken  red  through  the  mists 
that  lay  thick  along  the  valley  as  they  gained  the 
top  of  the  hill  up  which  they  had  been  climbing. 
The  road  was  already  visible,  winding  through  a 
deep  gorge,  and  skirted  by  great  masses  of  rock, 
green  with  ferns  and  bramble.  Here  and  there 
scattered  through  the  uplands  lay  a  farm  steading, 
surrounded  by  its  stretch  of  tilth  and  orchard  close. 
But  no  sound  of  morning  labour  could  be  heard. 
The  fields  were  lying  waste  and  untilled,  and  the 
homesteads  stood  deserted.  The  clank  of  the  horses 
hoofs  made  a  melancholy  music  in  the  silence.  The 
life  and  movement  of  the  little  troop  brought  into 
«6till  greater  relief  the  desolation  round  them. 

Macpherson  halted  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  and 
dismounting  loosened  his  horse's  girths.  Then  he 
removed  the  saddle  and  taking  off  his  gloves,  began 
to  rub  down  the  charger. 

"That  is  my  prince  of  steeds,"  he  said,  contem- 
plating his  task  and  caressing  the  glossy  neck  with 
pride  and  affection;  "nearly  four  hours' hard  riding 
and  never  turning  a  hair !  An  old  soldier,  my  young 
friend,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Gervase,  "learns 
a  good  many  things  on  his  rough  journey  through 
the  world.  He  learns  to  weigh  a  prince's  promises 
and  favours,  the  strength  of  friendship  and  the  worth 


12  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

of  love.  And  he  finds  they  are  all  vanity,  even  the 
vanity  of  vanities,  as  the  Hebrew  hath  it.  But  he 
grows  to  love  his  horse.  Together  they  have  faced 
the  scathe  of  the  battle,  and  the  privations  of  the 
march.  Often  and  often  this  sleek  skin  hath  been  my 
pillow,  and  but  for  him  these  useless  bones  had  been 
whitening  on  the  sandy  plains  of  Utrecht,  or  the  roll- 
ing uplands  of  the  Maas.  And  for  beauty — you  youths 
go  mad  for  beauty — is  there  aught  in  the  world  to 
compare  with  him  for  comeliness?  That  little  head 
and  graceful  neck,  those  swift  strong  legs  and  deep 
shoulders  fashioned  as  if  by  a  cunning  sculptor — 
there  is  perfect  beauty.  And  he  is  faithful  even  to 
death.  He  will  carry  me  till  he  drops  and  leave 
a  royal  stable  at  the  whistle  of  his  homeless  master. 
I  tell  you,  young  sir,  there  is  nothing  in  the  world 
like  a  noble  horse  and  the  joy  of  battle  in  a 
righteous  cause." 

"In  truth,"  said  Gervase,  "you  are  proud  of 
your  horse  with  reason,  but  I  trust  there  are  other 
things  in  the  world  one  may  love  with  as  good 
cause. " 

"  Aye, "  answered  the  other  bitterly,  "  you  are 
young,  and  youth  is  full  of  hope  and  trust.  The 
man  you  call  your  friend  cajoles  and  tricks  you, 
and  the  woman  whose  favour  is  the  breath  of  your 
nostrils,  deserts  you  at  the*  first  whisper  of  misfor- 
tune. These  things  are  of  the  world  and  they 
endure  for  an  hour ;  the  son  of  perdition  baits  his 
traps  with  them,  but  the  man  whose  hope  is  fixed, 
learns  to  shun  them  as  a  snare." 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  ENNISKILLEN.  13 

al  have  been  taught  otherwise,"  said  Gervase, 
*  and  I  have  had  no  reason  to  question  what  I  have 
learnt.  I  have  no  trick  of  speech,  but  I  hold  by 
love  and  friendship." 

"And  I  tell  you  they  are  but  shadows.  Here 
there  is  no  abiding  city,  and  these  things  but  wean 
our  hearts  from  the  eternal.  Seven-and-fifty  years 
have  been  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage,  and  at  eighteen 
I  saw  my  first  battle.  The  blood  of  the  youth  is 
hot,  the  lusts  of  the  flesh  are  strong  upon  him,  and 
he  is  slow  to  see  the  finger  of  God  writing  upon 
the  tablets  of  the  heart.  Mine  was  a  wild  youth 
and  a  wayward,  and  like  another  prodigal  I  went 
forth  to  riotous  living.  Surely  I  dwelt  in  the  tents 
of  Meshech,  but  God  hath  seen  good  to  open  the 
eyes  of  his  servant." 

"Captain  Macpherson,"  said  Gervase  gravely,  "I 
do  not  ask  you  to  vouchsafe  me  your  confidence, 
and  I  leave  theology  to  the  parson.  I  serve  God 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Church  of  England,  and 
will  do  my  duty  as  becomes  my  name  and  manhood. 
In  all  other  things  I  am  at  your  service,  but  in  this 
we  cannot  walk  together." 

He  turned  away  and  left  the  old  soldier  gazing 
after  him  earnestly. 

The  sun  had  already  risen  above  the  morning 
mists  that  had  gathered  themselves  into  fantastic 
shapes  and  were  dispersing  slowly  down  the  valley — 
the  promise  of  a  lovely  day  in  spring.  The  troopers 
had  dismounted,  and  were  making  a  frugal  meal 
of  dry  rye  bread  and  cold  bacon,  washed  down  by 


14  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

a  draught  of  the  spring  water  that  trickled  down 
the  rock  by  the  roadside.  Weary  with  their  long 
march,  covered  with  mud  and  flaked  with  foam, 
the  horses  cropped  the  long  grass  that  grew  luxuri- 
antly under  the  hedge  of  thorn.  Gervase  threw 
himself  down  on  the  grassy  sward  by  the  road- 
side, and  watched  the  picturesque  scene  around 
him.  Then,  tired  as  he  was,  a  heavy  drowsiness 
overtook  him,  and  the  deep  valley  and  the  swelling 
uplands,  and  the  horses,  and  the  travel-stained 
troopers  became  part  of  a  broken  dream.  Over  his 
head  he  seemed  to  hear  the  jubilant  notes  of  a 
thrush  in  the  white  thorn,  and  in  a  little  while  a 
deep  voice  reading  one  of  the  psalms  that  glow 
with  the  rapture  of  battle  and  thrill  with  the  triumph 
of  faith,  followed  by  the  loud  "  Amen"  of  the 
troopers. 

Then  he  fell  into  a  profound  sleep.  When  he 
awoke  the  sunshine  filled  the  valley,  and  Macpherson 
was  standing  over  him  with  a  smile  on  his  rugged 
face. 

"  Is  it  time  to  march  ?"  cried  Gervase. 

"  It  is  time  to  be  up  and  doing, "  Macpherson 
answered  solemnly.  "  This  day  will  try  of  what 
stuff  the  Lord  hath  made  your  sinews  and  fashioned 
your  heart.  Yonder  is  the  enemy.  " 

Gervase  leapt  hastily  from  his  resting-place.  Already 
the  men  were  in  their  saddles  and  were  examining 
the  priming  of  their  carbines.  Far  down  the  valley 
he  could  see  a  small  body  of  horse,  the  sunshine 
glancing  on  their  swords  and  steel  head-pieces, 


ON  THE  ROAD   TO   ENNISKILLEN.  15 

and  the  dust  rising  thickly  under  the  hoofs  of  the 
chargers.  A  little  in  advance  were  riding  two 
officers,  one  of  whom  rode  a  grey  horse  and  was 
conspicuous  by  the  scarlet  cloak  he  wore  over  his 
armour. 

Gervase  watched  Macpherson  with  surprise  and 
admiration.  The  old  soldier  seemed  like  another 
man  under  the  inspiration  of  the  coming  struggle; 
his  eyes  flashed,  his  chest  heaved,  and  his  deep 
strong  voice  thrilled  like  a  trumpet.  Leaping  like 
a  youth  into  his  saddle  and  laying  his  hand  lightly 
for  a  moment  on  the  restive  charger's  neck,  he 
drew  his  sword  from  the  scabbard.  Then  he  placed 
himself  across  the  road  in  front  of  the  troopers  and 
pointed  with  his  sword  to  the  enemy,  who  had 
already  quickened  their  pace  and  were  advancing 
at  a  sharp  trot. 

"  Yon  are  Galmoy's  Horse,  gentlemen.  They  are 
nearly  three  to  one,  and  I  am  told  they  can  fight. 
What  say  ye?" 

Already  the  troopers  had  caught  the  joyous  spirit 
of  their  grim  leader;  his  voice  stirred  them  like  a 
trumpet.  They  had  caught  the  contagion  of  his 
hope,  his  faith,  and  his  enthusiasm. 

"  We  are  doing  God's  work,  sir, "  said  Sergeant 
Hackett  soberly,  as  he  gathered  up  his  reins  and 
drew  his  hat  tightly  over  his  brow.  "  We  will 
follow  you,  Captain  Macpherson,  even  to  the  mouth 
of  the  pit.  Not  one  of  us  will  fail  you." 

"  Then  we  will  show  the  butchers  what  we  can 
do.  Remember,  let  'no  quarter'  be  our  word 


I  6  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

this  day.  Do  not  crowd  together  until  we  have 
drawn  their  fire.  Then  give  them  a  salvo  steadily, 
and  like  brave  men  and  careful.  Thereafter  in  God's 
name,  let  them  feel  the  sword's  edge  and  the  power 
of  the  true  religion." 

Macpherson  had  risen  in  his  stirrups,  his  face 
glowing  with  the  joy  of  battle.  Already  the  enemy 
had  shortened  the  distance  between  them,  and  a 
few  minutes  more  would  bring  them  within  pistol 
shot.  They  could  already  hear  the  heavy  trampling 
of  the  horses  as  they  came  galloping  up  the  hill,  the 
jingling  of  the  bridles  and  the  clank  of  the  swords. 
As  the  little  troop  swept  up  the  hillside  it  made  a 
gallant  show.  Gervase  felt  his  heart  beat  fast  and 
loud ;  his  hand  trembled  with  excitement  on  the 
hilt  of  his  sword,  and  his  breath  came  quick.  He 
found  himself  longing  with  feverish  impatience  for 
the  word  to  charge,  but  Macpherson  kept  his  men 
well  in  hand,  trying  their  temper,  and  watching 
them  narrowly  like  a  wary  soldier.  Not  a  man 
showed  sign  of  fear  or  indecision. 

"You  are  a  young  soldier,  Mr.  Orme,"  said 
Macpherson,  with  a  joyous  laugh,  "and  young  soldiers 
are  ever  rash  and  heedless.  Let  us  give  yon  sons 
of  Belial  time  to  think  of  what  they  do.  You  will 
feel  in  good  time  the  thirst  to  trample  down  and 
slay,  and  the  Devil  driving  you  to  rend  and  to 
destroy.  Wait  till  they  come  to  where  the  road 
widens  into  the  marsh.  Yon  fellow  rides  like  a 
gallant  gentleman — a  Frenchman  too,  I  think,  and 
knows  his  work.  Ha!  here  they  come.  Now,  my 


ON  THE   ROAD    TO  ENNISKILLEN.  17 

children,  follow  me,  and  may  God  defend  his  cause 
this  day!" 

Macpherson  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  his  troopers 
followed  in  an  orderly  array  at  a  hard  gallop. 

It  was  clear  the  enemy  was  uncertain  as  to  their 
intentions,  for  immediately  Macpherson  had  put  his 
horse  in  motion,  they  drew  up  short  and  halted. 
But  still  the  little  troop  kept  on  steadily,  riding 
two  abreast  along  the  narrow  road,  and  holding 
their  carbines  in  readiness  to  fire.  The  young  officer 
on  the  grey  charger  had  thrown  off  his  scarlet  cloak, 
and  was  giving  directions  to  his  men  with  the  point 
of  his  sword.  Several  of  the  troopers  had  dismounted 
and  lined  the  roadside  where  a  fence  of  loose  stones 
presented  a  sort  of  low  screen,  or  parapet. 

And  now  barely  a  hundred  yards  divided  the 
combatants.  Already  a  shot  or  two  had  been  fired, 
but  as  they  came  within  range  the  dragoons,  without 
waiting  for  further  orders,  fired  wildly.  Gervase, 
who  rode  in  advance,  turned  to  see  if  any  of  the 
men  behind  him  had  been  struck ;  not  a  man  moved 
in  his  saddle.  Then  Macpherson  rose  in  his 

stirrups  and  shouted  in  a  voice  of  thunder 

"Now,     my    gallant    fellows,   fire!     Aim    at   the 
horses  and  let  every  shot  tell." 

For  an  instant,  as  it  seemed,  the  little  troop 
stood  fast,  and  orderly  as  on  parade,  took  aim  and 
fired.  Several  horses  went  down,  and  for  a  minute 
all  was  confusion  and  disorder  in  the  royal  ranks. 
That  minute  was  the  turning  tide  of  battle.  With 
a  wild  shout  and  a  deep  oath,  Macpherson  waved 

2 


1 8  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

his  sword  above  his  head  and  gave  the  charge. 
Instinctively  Gervase  drove  his  spurs  into  his  horse's 
flanks,  and  grasped  the  hilt  of  his  sword  with  a 
tighter  clutch.  In  another  moment  he  was  in  the 
middle  of  the  red-coats  and  almost  without  knowing 
how  it  was  done,  he  saw  his  blade  buried  in  the 
body  of  the  dragoon  who  had  first  encountered  him. 
As  in  a  dream  he  saw  the  man  catch  convulsively 
at  the  horse's  mane  and  fall  in  a  heap  to  the  ground. 
Macpherson  was  at  his  side,  hammering  on  sword 
and  head-piece.  His  voice  could  be  heard  above 
the  clank  and  clash  of  steel  and  the  shouts  of  the 
fighting  men.  "No  quarter  to  the  men  of  Belial. 
Strike  home  for  the  true  religion.  God's  wounds! 
you  must  have  it." 

Two  troopers  had  thrown  themselves  across  his 
path ;  one  he  had  charged  so  violently  that  his  horse 
had  stumbled  and  gone  down,  crushing  his  rider  ; 
the  other  parried  his  thurst  and  then  turned  to  flee. 
But  his  doom  was  on  him.  Down  came  the  deadly 
steel  on  the  iron  head-piece.  Nothing  could  with- 
stand that  blow,  but  the  sword  was  shivered  at  the 
hilt. 

"The  curse  of  Heaven  light  on  the  hand  that 
fashioned  thee!"  cried  Macpherson,  hurling  the  hilt 
from  him  and  drawing  his  pistol  from  the  holster. 
His  men  followed  close  upon  his  heels,  hacking  and 
hewing  with  their  heavy  swords.  No  man  failed  in 
his  duty  that  day. 

Gervase  saw  the  young  officer  before  him  gallantly 
striving  to  rally  his  men,  and  imploring  them  to 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  ENNISKILLEN.  19 

stand.  Quick  as  thought  their  swords  were  crossed, 
and  Gervase  saw  his  eyes  light  up  with  inexpressible 
hate.  "Ah!  canaille,"  he  cried,  "you  will  see  at 
least  how  a  gentleman  can  fight." 

It  was  not  a  time  for  nice  tricks  of  fence,  and 
Gervase  saw  in  a  moment  that  his  opponent  was 
a  more  skilful  swordsman  than  himself.  He  saw 
the  flash  of  his  opponent's  blade  and  felt  the  warm 
blood  streaming  down  his  face,  but  he  did  not  give 
him  time  to  repeat  the  blow.  Throwing  himself 
upon  him  he  caught  him  round  the  neck,  and  to- 
gether they  fell  to  the  ground.  It  was  indeed  a  mir- 
acle how  they  escaped  beneath  the  hoofs  of  the 
trampling  horses  as  they  grappled  with  one  another 
in  the  dust.  Then  the  tide  of  battle  swept  past 
them,  and  they  were  left  alone  to  fight  it  out.  But 
the  delicate  Frenchman  was  no  match  for  the  stout 
young  giant  whose  arms  were  as  strong  as  an  oak 
sapling.  Gervase  placed  his  knee  upon  his  breast, 
and  wrenched  the  sword  from  his  hand. 

"  It  is  enough,  Monsieur ;  I  yield  myself  pri- 
soner." 

Gervase  leapt  to  his  feet  and  reached  out  his 
hand  to  assist  his  prisoner  from  the  ground.  But 
the  other  refused  the  proffered  courtesy,  and  when 
he  had  risen,  nonchalantly  began  to  arrange  his 
disordered  dress,  and  to  brush  the  dust  from  his 
clothes  with  an  embroidered  handkerchief.  "Your 
arms,  monsieur,  are  very  strong,  but  I  do  not 
understand  the  fashion  of  your  country.  We  do  not 
fight  thus  in  France.  It  is  my  regret  that  you 


20  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

should    not    see    the    end    of  this    gallant    affair." 

There  was  a  covert  sneer  in  the  tone  that  there 
was  no  mistaking. 

"  I  have  seen  the  beginning  and  the  end,  sir, " 
Gervase  said  simply.  "  Your  men  do  not  seem  to 
relish  the  fare  we  have  provided  for  them." 

"My  men  are  not  soldiers;  they  are  poltroons 
Let  us  dismiss  them.  May  I  inquire  into  whose 
hands  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  fall?" 

"My  name,  sir,  is  Gervase  Orme,  sometime 
ensign  in  Moimtjoy's  regiment,  and  now  in  arms 
for  the  Protestant  religion  and  the  liberties  of 
the  kingdom.  I  am  very  much  at  your  service." 

"You  are  very  good,  but  Victor  de  Laprade, 
whom  men  call  Vicomte  of  that  name,  seeks  favour 
from  none.  I  think,"  he  continued,  looking  down 
the  road  along  which  the  pursuit  had  rolled,  "  we 
are  likely  to  be  better  acquainted." 

"It  is  not  to  be  doubted,  sir:  the  skirmish  is 
over  and  your  men  are  wholly  broken." 

"Nay,  Luttrel  was  a  brave  man;  I  am  sorry  for 
him,  but  the  rest — let  them  go." 

The  moment  that  the  Vicomte  de  Laprade  had 
gone  down  in  Gervase's  grasp,  the  dragoons  had 
broken  and  fled,  followed  hard  by  Macpherson  and 
his  troop.  The  pursuers  were  in  no  mood  to  give 
quarter  that  day.  The  atrocities  of  Galmoy  some 
time  before  had  filled  their  hearts  with  a  thirst  for 
vengeance;  it  was  a  sacred  duty  not  to  spare,  but 
to  slay,  and  slay  without  remorse  or  pity.  Far  down 
the  road  thundered  the  headlong  flight,  pursuers 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO   ENNISKILLEN.  21 

and  pursued  mingled  together.  De  Laprade  had 
seated  himself  on  the  fence  by  the  roadside,  and 
watched  without  apparent  interest  the  incidents  of 
the  pursuit.  It  was  impossible  to  tell  from  his  face 
what  his  real  feelings  might  have  been. 

"  C'cst  fini, "  he  said  lightly,  as  the  troopers  halted 
and  turned  to  retrace  their  footsteps  to  where  the 
conflict  had  commenced. 

Macpherson  came  up,  wiping  the  perspiration  from 
his  brow. 

"I  saw  you  go  down,"  he  said  to  Gervase,  "and 
feared  it  was  all  over  with  you.  I  should  have 
been  sorry  to  my  dying  day,  for  you  have  shown 
the  right  soldier  spirit, — you  have  been  touched?" 

"A  mere  scratch,  but  we  have  gained  a  great 
success. " 

"  A  pretty  affair.  What  popinjay  have  we 
yonder?"  and  he  pointed  to  De  Laprade. 

"One  of  King  James's  new  French  gentlemen," 
said  Gervase  smiling,  "  who  is  the  first  captive  of 
my  bow  and  spear." 

"One  of  the  accursed  race,"  said  Macpherson 
grimly.  "And  the  message  hath  come  to  me;  'no 
quarter,'  was  our  word  this  day.  His  blood  be 
upon  his  own  head."  He  drew  his  pistol  from  the 
holster,  and  dismounted  from  his  horse.  Gervase 
saw  the  deep  gloom  gather  on  his  brow. 

"What  would  you  do?"  Gervase  cried,  catching 
his  arm  and  placing  himself  between  his  Captain 
and  the  Vicomte.  "  In  God's  name,  you  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  you  would  slay  him  in  cold  blood?" 


22  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  In  cold  blood,  no,  but  in  righteous  vengeance  for 
the  evil  that  hath  been  wrought  upon  our  people. 
Do  you  forget  Dixie  and  Charleton?  I  have  taken 
a  vow  before  the  Lord  this  day  that  not  one  of 
them  shall  escape  me.  The  blood  of  Abel  is  crying 
from  the  ground,  and  shall  I,  the  least  of  his  ser- 
vants, suffer  that  cry  to  go  unheard?" 

"While  I  live  you  shall  not  injure  one  hair  of 
his  head.  The  lessons  that  you  have  learned  in  the 
school  of  Turenne  we  will  not  practise  here.  No 
prisoner  shall  be  slain  in  cold  blood  while  Gervase 
Orme  can  wield  a  sword  to  defend  him." 

Macpherson  turned  away  and  replaced  his  pistol 
in  the  holster  without  a  word,  and  stooping  down 
began  to  examine  the  forelegs  of  his  charger. 
While  this  scene  was  being  enacted  on  which  his 
life  depended,  the  Vicomte  continued  sitting  upon 
the  fence,  flicking  the  dust  from  his  riding  boots 
with  his  handkerchief  and  smiling  an  easy  smile  of 
apparent  indifference.  He  seemed  to  be  the  only  one 
who  had  no  interest  in  the  issue  of  the  quarrel.  Then 
he  rose,  and  going  over  to  Gervase  held  out  his  hand. 

"  However  you  may  yet  decide  this  trivial  affair, " 
he  said,  "  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy.  I  declined 
to  take  your  hand;  I  beg  your  pardon.  You  are  a 
brave  man  and  a  gentleman.  But  it  is  a  matter  of 
.regret  that  you  should  quarrel  with  your  friend  on 
my  poor  account." 

"  There  is  no  quarrel,  sir, "  said  Macpherson,  who 
had  overheard  his  words,  raising  himself  to  his  full 
height,  and  looking  steadily  as  he  spoke.  "  This 


ON  THE  ROAD   TO  ENNISKILLEN.  23 

young  gentleman  was  right,  and  I  was  wrong. 
He  had  given  you  quarter,  which  matter  he  may 
yet  live  to  repent,  and  you  were  under  his  protec- 
tion by  the  laws  of  war.  I  might  have  shot  you 
down  in  the  melee  but  I  left  him  to  deal  with  you. 
He  hath  seen  good  to  spare  your  life,  and  in  your 
presence,  sir,  I  now  ask  his  pardon,  which  will  not 
be  denied  me." 

"  I  cannot  pardon  where  there  is  no  offence, 
Captain  Macpherson, "  said  Gervase.  *  It  was  my 
good  fortune  to  fight  on  the  side  that  can  afford 
protection,  and  had  it  been  otherwise  I  am  certain 
that  M.  de  Laprade  would  have  rendered  me  the 
like  service." 

The  Vicomte  bowing  low,  raised  his  hat  with  a 
grand  air.  Then  he  said,  addressing  Macpherson, 
"  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  appears  to  regret  that  he 
did  not  shoot  me.  It  is  not  yet  too  late  to  try  his 
skill.  By  the  kindness  of  this  gentleman  I  have 
still  my  sword,  and  if  you,  sir,  do  not  think  it 
beneath  your  dignity  to  try  a  pass  with  a  poor 
soldier  and  gentleman  like  myself,  I  shall  be  happy 
to  give  you  the  opportunity  you  desire.  Here  is  a 
pretty  piece  of  heath — how  say  you,  sir  ?  " 

"I  say  that  I  fight  only  in  the  way  of  my  duty, 
but  .at  another  time  when  public  necessity  may 
give  way  to  private  entertainment  I  shall  have  no 
objection  to  oblige  you  either  with  sword  or  pistol, 
on  foot  or  horseback.  No  man  that  knows  him 
will  say  that  Ninian  Macpherson  declined  a  duello 
because  he  feared  the  thrust  of  a  rapier  or  the  shot 


24  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

of  a  pistol.  When  our  journey  is  ended  and  the 
business  now  on  hand  completed " 

"  Be  assured  I  shall  afford  you  what  you  are  pleased 
to  call  your  entertainment.  And  now  may  I  ask 
whither  you  purpose  to  carry  me?  " 

"  We  shall  carry  you,  sir,  as  far  as  Enniskillen, 
and,  mayhap,  if  you  so  desire  it  back  to  London- 
derry." 

"I  have  no  desires;  I  have  learnt  the  uses  of 
adversity. " 

"  Then  you  have  learnt  the  last  lesson  a  man  can 
learn,"  answered  Macpherson,  abruptly  turning  on 
his  heel,  and  joining  Hackett  who  was  looking  after 
one  of  the  men  who  had  been  wounded. 

The  skirmish  had  in  every  sense  been  a  complete 
success.  Only  one  man  had  been  slightly,  and  another 
severely  wounded,  and  these  raw  and  undisciplined 
yeomen  had  shown  a  wonderful  steadiness  and 
gallantry.  When  the  horses  of  the  dragoons  had 
been  collected,  for  Macpherson  believed  in  gathering 
the  fruits  of  victory,  they  were  ready  to  start  on 
the  march. 

u  The  prisoner  is  in  your  charge,  Sergeant  Hackett, " 
he  said.  "  Shoot  him  through  the  head  if  he  tries  to 
run  away." 

De  Laprade  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Bah !  "  he 
said,  "  your  Captain  eats  fire.  Whither  would  he  have 
me  run?  " 

"  Not  outside  the  reach  of  my  carbine,"  said 
Hackett  drily. 

Gervase  had  fallen   into  the  rear,  where  he  was 


ON  THE   ROAD   TO   ENNISKILLEN.  25 

presently  joined  by  Macpherson,  whose  passion  had 
apparently  died  away,  and  left  his  face  pale  with 
an  almost  ghastly  pallor.  They  rode  side  by  side, 
neither  speaking  a  word.  Macpherson's  head  was 
bent  on  his  breast,  and  Gervase  could  hear  him 
muttering  to  himself  in  a  low  tone,  but  he  could  not 
catch  the  meaning  of  his  words.  He  was  evidently 
struggling  with  some  violent  emotion.  Then  he 
seemed  to  wake  up  from  the  profound  reverie  in 
which  he  had  been  sunk,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
the  arm  of  his  companion,  said  in  a  low  voice, 

"  Mr.  Orme,  thou  art  a  well-conditioned  and,  I 
think,  a  godly  young  man,  and  though  it  does  not 
beseem  one  of  my  gray  hairs  and  length  of  years 
to  open  his  heart  to  one  young  and  lacking  in  expe- 
rience as  thou  art,  yet  the  spirit  within  me  prompts 
me  to  speak." 

Gervase  was  silent.  . 

"There  are  times,"  he  continued,  "when  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  is  upon  me.  Then  I  can  hear  the  strains 
of  a  rich  and  heavenly  minstrelsy,  and  my  soul  is 
possessed  with  the  joy  of  everlasting  hope.  Alas! 
I  do  begin  to  fear  it  is  but  the  snare  of  the  fowler. 
This  day  the  evil  one  took  possession  of  me.  I 
relapsed  into  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  the  bonds  of 
iniquity.  I  sware  evil  oaths ;  I  rejoiced  in  the  shed- 
ding of  blood,  nor  was  it  the  cause  of  the  Lord  that 
I  followed  this  day,  but  the  promptings  of  my  own 
carnal  heart.  Can  the  Lord  of  Righteousness  and 
the  Prince  of  the  powers  of  the  air  dwell  in  the 
same  breast  ?  " 


26  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

u  I  do  not  know  how  these  things  may  be, "  Ger- 
vase  answered,  "but  I  know  that  you  have  done 
your  duty  this  day  like  a  good  and  valiant  soldier. 
It  may  be  that  old  habits  are  strong  upon  you,  and 
an  old  warhorse  like  yourself  lifts  his  ears  at  the 
sound  of  the  charge." 

"  The  hearts  of  the  elect  are  purified,  and  old  habits 
cannot  draw  the  soul  from  God." 

He  looked  at  Gervase  with  a  look  of  profound 
sadness  in  his  eyes,  and  there  was  an  undertone  of 
despair  in  his  voice.  It  was  impossible  to  doubt  his 
sincerity.  Spiritual  despair  had  seized  upon  him, 
and  his  narrow  creed  had  no  word  of  consolation 
to  offer  him  in  his  hour  of  doubt.  He  had  drawn 
aside  the  veil  that  concealed  the  workings  of  his 
heart. 

"  All  the  days  of  my  youth  were  vanity, "  he 
continued;  "I  squandered  my  substance  in  riotous 
living,  and  spent  my  strength  in  the  lap  of  harlots. 
Then  the  Lord  found  me  in  the  wilderness,  and  for 
ten  years  I  have  walked  in  the  narrow  way,  till 
now  mine  enemy  has  found  me  this  day;  nay,  not 
this  day,  but  the  hour  I  girt  this  sword  on  my 
side.  I  am  the  same  man  that  fought  at  St.  Gothard, 
and  walked  up  the  breach  at  Philisbourg. " 

"And  may  I  never  fight  by  the  side  of  a  better 
soldier, "  cried  Gervase  with  assumed  gaiety.  "  The 
Protestant  cause  could  ill  afford  to  lose  an  arm  like 
yours.  But  for  you  we  had  never  charged 
this  day. 

"Ah!  it  was  a  gallant  onfall ;  "  said  the  old  soldier 


ON  THE  ROAD   TO   ENXISKILLEN.  27 

meditatively,  "  I  have  seldom  seen  a  brisker,  but  it 
is  vanity,  vanity."  He  sighed,  and  relapsed  into 
silence,  nor  did  Gervase  venture  to  address  him  again 
till  they  rode  into  the  village  where  they  intended 
to  pass  the  night. 


CHAPTER  H. 

OF  THE  ENTERTAINMENT  THEY  HAD  AT  THE  INN. 

AT  the  door  of  the  inn  Hackett  dismounted,  and 
unfastening  the  latch  with  some  difficulty  entered 
the  kitchen.  A  fire  of  peat  was  smouldering  on 
the  hearth,  and  the  remains  of  what  was  evidently  a 
hurried  meal  were  scattered  on  the  table.  A  number 
of  pike  heads  and  scythe  blades  were  piled  in  a 
corner.  There  was  no  one  in  the  room.  He  rapped 
loudly  with  the  hilt  of  his  sword  on  the  table  and 
presently  a  woman  made  her  appearance  from  one 
of  the  inner  rooms.  She  seemed  greatly  alarmed 
at  the  unexpected  arrival  of  her  guests,  and  as  she 
entered  she  cast  a  look  of  fear  and  expectancy 
round  the  kitchen.  Her  eyes  fell  on  the  weapons 
in  the  corner  and  she  stopped  short. 

"We  want  food  and  lodgings  for  the  night,"  said 
the  sergeant,  who  had  been  examining  one  of  the 
pewter  mugs  carefully,  "  lodgings  for  the  men  and 
horses.  Bacon,  I  see,  you  have  in  plenty.  Is  there 
hay  in  the  stable?" 

"Ay,"  she  answered  nervously,  "but  my  man  is 
from  home  and  I  cannot  serve  you." 

"  Oh,   for  that  we  will  just  wait  upon  ourselves 


THE   ENTERTAINMENT  AT    THE   INN.  2Q 

and  be  beholden  to  ye  all  the  same.  Your  man,  I 
doubt  not,  has  taken  to  another  trade,  and  belike  it 
were  as  well  we  did  not  fall  across  him.  And  for 
what  do  ye  keep  these  toys?"  he  asked,  kicking  the  heap 
of  weapons  with  his  jack  boot.  "  These  are  not  tools 
an  honest  man  would  willingly  handle,  but  we  will 
inquire  further  thereinto." 

So  saying  he  went  out  to  make  his  report  to 
Macpherson,  who  was  awaiting  his  return  with 
undisguised  impatience.  "  Things  have  an  ill  look, 
sir, "  he  said,  with  a  stiff  salute,  "  and  I  doubt  not 
there  is  mischief  brewing  hereabouts;  but  there  is  a 
can  of  ale  for  ourselves  and  fodder  for  the  beasts." 

"  We  can  go  no  further  if  we  would,"  said 
Macpherson,  "there  is  not  another  mile  in  the 
horses.  And, "  he  continued,  glancing  at  the  capa- 
bility of  the  house  to  withstand  an  attack,  "  we  can 
make  good  this  place  against  a  hundred.  Let  the 
horses  be  looked  to  carefully.  I  myself  will  examine 
the  stable.  Come,  sweetheart,  thou  hast  done  a 
good  day's  work  and  hast  well  earned  a  night's 
repose." 

Gervase  and  the  Vicomte  entered  the  house 
together.  The  woman  had  replenished  the  fire 
and  was  busily  engaged  making  her  preparations 
for  the  reception  of  her  unwelcome  guests.  As  De 
Laprade  came  in  she  gave  a  start  of  surprise,  but 
the  look  of  recognition,  which  for  a  moment  lighted 
up  her  face,  immediately  gave  place  to  the  dull, 
stolid  expression  she  had  worn  in  her  interview 
with  the  sergeant.  She  continued  her  work  appar- 


30  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

ently  unconscious  of  the  presence  of  the  two  strangers. 
The  Vicomte  threw  his  hat  and  sword  on  the  table 
and  sat  down  on  a  stool  close  to  the  hearth. 

"I  am  destined  to  see  Madame  again,"  he  said, 
stretching  out  his  hands  towards  the  warmth  of  the 
hearth,  for  the  evening  had  grown  chilly.  "And 
how  is  la  belle  Marie  ?  " 

As  he  spoke  a  tall  girl  of  eighteen,  barefooted 
and  bareheaded,  entered  the  door,  tall  and  straight 
as  a  young  poplar,  lissom  and  graceful,  with  the 
deep  blue  black  eyes  and  low  broad  brow  that  one 
meets  again  and  again  among  the  peasants  of  the 
West  country.  Here  is  the  pure  Greek,  instinct 
with  life,  but  touched  with  a  certain  grace  of  sad 
and  pensive  beauty.  She  also  started  with  surprise 
when  her  eyes  fell  on  the  young  Frenchman. 

"I  thought,  mother,"  she  said  hesitating — "I 
thought—  " 

"•Have  done  thinking  and  help  me  with  the 
supper,  "  her  mother  answered,  with  a  glance  of 
warning.  "  The  gentlemen  have  ridden  far  and 
will  stay  the  night.  " 

"  Madame  does  not  recognize  her  old  friends,  ma 
belle,  "  said  De  Laprade  lightly,  "  but  you  will  not 
be  so  cruel.  When  we  parted  this  morning,  I  did 
not  dream  that  we  should  meet  so  soon,  but  it  is 
the  fortune  of  war. " 

u  And  the  rest,  "  cried  the  girl  eagerly,  u  are  they 
also—" 

The  woman  looked  up  anxiously  for  a  moment. 
"  Poof!  —they  are  gone — ecrases ;  they  need  no  roof 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT  THE  INN.  31 

over  their  heads  to-night,  nor  a  pretty  maiden  to 
wait  on  them.  They  drank  too  deep  last  night  to 
have  cool  heads  this  morning,  and  now  they  will 
never  hear  the  reveille  sound  again.  It  is  a  great 
pity,  but  the  fortunes  of  war — " 

u  I  don't  understand,  "  said  the  girl.  "  What  has 
become  of  them?" 

u  They  are  lying  yonder  by  the  roadside  and  will 
waken  never  again.  " 

The  woman  threw  up  her  hands  with  a  loud  cry 
and  fell  on  the  floor. 

"  These  barbarians  have  then  some  touch  of 
humanity, "  said  De  Laprade  softly,  while  Gervase 
ran  forward  and  raised  her  head  upon  his  knee, 
and  the  girl  seized  a  water  can  which  stood  on  the 
table  and  bathed  her  cheeks  and  forehead.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  woman  recovered  consciousness 
and  looked  round  her  wildly. 

"  It  is  not  true,  "  she  cried ;  "  'tis  a  lie.  My 
beautiful  boy  that  left  me  singing  this  morning  with 
the  lovelight  dancing  in  his  eyes  is  not  dead.  The 
sword  was  never  sharpened  that  could  slay  him.  I 
cate  not  for  King  James  or  King  William  and  for — 
why  should  they  not  leave  me  in  peace  ?  Tell  me, 
for  the  Holy  Virgin's  sake,  that  it  is  not  true. " 
She  rose  and  staggering  forward  threw  herself  at 
De  Laprade's  feet  and  caught  him  round  the  knees, 
with  streaming  eyes  and  a  look  of  wild  entreaty  in 
her  face. 

He  endeavoured  ineffectually  to  disengage  him- 
self, but  she  clung  to  him  with  desperate  earnestness. 


32  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

His  look  of  placid  indifference  gave  way  to  one  of 
profound  pity.  "  It  may  be,  "  he  said,  gently  endeav- 
ouring to  raise  her  to  her  feet,  "  it  may  be  that 
I  was  wrong  and  your  son  is  not  dead.  I  remember 
me  he  was  our  guide  and  did  not  carry  arms.  He 
may  have  escaped  the  fate  that  befell  the  others, 
but  one  of  these  gentlemen  will  tell  you.  " 

At  this  moment  Macpherson,  accompanied  by  the 
sergeant,  entered  the  house. 

"  What  pother  is  this  ?  "  he  said  roughly.  "  If  you 
are  unwilling  to  serve  us  we  will  even  wait  upon 
ourselves.  We  do  not  make  war  on  women,  but 
they  must  not  hinder  us." 

Gervase  drew  him  aside  by  the  sleeve,  hastily 
explaining  how  matters  stood;  but  there  was  no 
comfort  or  hope  in  his  answer.  He  had  not  seen 
the  boy,  but  there  might  be  good  reason  for  that; 
the  woman  should  have  kept  the  lad  at  home  if 
she  was  unwilling  he  should  take  his  chance,  and 
no  one  could  be  blamed  if  he  went  down  with  the 
rest.  One  more  or  less,  what  did  it  matter? 

The  girl  stood  listening  to  their  brief  conversation 
with  flashing  eyes,  and  then  took  her  mother  by  the 
arm,  and  drawing  her  into  the  inner  room  closed 
the  door  behind  them. 

Macpherson  was  in  the  enemy's  country  and 
accordingly  made  himself  at  home.  Under  his 
direction  a  meal  was  soon  prepared,  and  a  cask  of 
home-brewed  ale  that  had  been  discovered  in  a 
recess,  was  rolled  into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and 
the  men  helped  themselves.  They  were  too  tired  for 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT  THE   INN.  33 

much  speech  and  devoted  themselves  to  their  repast 
in  silence,  addressing  one  another  occasionally  in 
undertones,  and  making  huge  inroads  on  the  rashers 
and  coarse  bread  that  rapidly  disappeared  before 
them.  Macpherspn  sat  moodily  apart,  eating  and 
drinking  but  sparingly — a  marked  contrast  to  De 
Laprade  who  seemed  to  forget  that  he  was  a  pris- 
oner, and  laughed  at  his  own  conceits  with  light- 
hearted  gaiety.  He  had  divested  himself  of  his 
peruke  and  riding  boots,  and  stretched  himself  along 
the  rude  settle  that  stood  near  the  hearth.  He 
appeared  to  pay  no  attention  to  the  stern  leader 
who  scowled  more  and  more  deeply  as  the  Vicomte's 
laugh  grew  louder,  and  the  tone  of  his  conver- 
sation assumed  a  more  unbecoming  levity.  Gervase 
could  not  help  feeling  interested,  for  the  type  was 
altogether  new  to  him — there  was  a  life  and  colour 
about  the  stories  to  which  he  was  a  stranger;  it 
was  a  little  bit  of  Versailles,  brilliant  and  careless, 
set  down  in  the  wilds  of  Fermanagh. 

"  Pardieu ! "  said  the  Vicomte,  "  it  was  play 
that  did  it ;  there  was  nothing  else  left.  My  creditors 
will  miss  me,  I  do  not  doubt,  but  they  were  trouble- 
some and  I  hate  trouble;  so  I  hastened  to  seek 
glory — bah!  it  is  a  greater  trouble  than  the  other. 
Where  is  the  glory  when  your  soldiers  will  not 
fight,  and  your  king  is  a  poltroon?  There  is  no 
music  like  the  rattle  of  the  dicebox,  when  fortune; 
the  beautiful  goddess,  is  smiling  like  a  lover.  Love 
and  play  are  the  two  things  that  make  life  worth 
living." 

3 


34  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"  Of  love, "  said  Gervase,  "  I  know  nothing,  but 
for  play — I  leave  that  to  the  fool  and  the  knave. 
Nay,  I  mean  not  to  say  that  men  of  honour  have 
not  ere  now  given  themselves  up  to  its  strange 
fascination,  but  it  was  their  weakness.  For  me,  I  like 
rather  to  hear  the  yelp  of  the  otter  hounds  when  the 
morning  is  young  and  the  spring  woods  are  full 
of  life  and  beauty,  or  the  cry  of  the  beagles  when 
the  scent  is  lying  strong.  You  have  never  seen 
the  brown  trout  in  the  freshet?  " 

"There  were  no  fish  in  the  ponds  at  Versailles," 
said  the  Vicomte  drily,  "but  when  a  great  lady 
dropped  her  fan " 

Macpherson  rose  to  his  feet  and  drew  out  the 
small  leather-bound  volume  that  Gervase  had  seen 
him  use  before.  "  There  lias  been  enough  of  this 
untimely  jesting,"  he  said.  "  These  are  not  manners 
that  suit  our  station  or  our  work,  and  if  you,  sir, 
care  not  to  join  in  the  devotions  of  Christian  men, 
I  shall  not  compel  you  to  remain,  but  you  may 
retire  to  your  repose.  But  as  for  us,  we  will  thank 
God  for  His  watchful  care  this  day." 

"  Your  devotions,  sir,  will  interest  me  beyond 
measure. " 

"  Hackett,  give  me  the  light, "  said  Macpherson, 
looking  for  a  moment  sternly  at  the  speaker  from 
under  his  heavy  eyebrows.  The  sergeant  went  to 
the  hearth  and  taking  up  a  blazing  piece  of  resinous 
fir  held  it  up  to  his  leader,  who  opened  the  book 
and  began  solemnly  to  read  one  of  those  Psalms 
that  breathe  forth  vengeance  and  savage  triumph. 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT   THE   INN.  35 

"  Plead  my  cause,  oh  Lord,  with  them  that  strive 
with  me,  fight  against  them  that  fight  against  me. 
Take  hold  of  shield  and  buckler  and  stand  up  for 
my  help." 

Then  he  closed  the  book  and  dropping  on  his 
knees  (an  example  which  was  followed  by  all  the 
company  except  the  Vicomte,  who  was  apparently 
fast  asleep)  he  prayed  loudly  and  fervently.  His 
prayer  was  to  some  extent  a  repetition  of  the  verses 
he  had  been  reading,  clothed  in  more  homely  lan- 
guage. He  prayed  that  God  would  lead  His  people 
forth  in  safety  through  the  perils  and  dangers  that 
encompassed  them;  and  that  the  wicked  oppressor 
might  be  taken  in  his  own  toils  and  destroyed  utterly. 
Then  from  the  language  of  supplication  he  passed 
to  the  enthusiasm  of  prophecy.  The  day  was  at 
hand  when  a  great  deliverance  would  be  wrought 
for  the  people  of  God.  The  scarlet  woman,  sunken 
in  her  adulteries  and  witchcraft,  would  pass  into 
the  darkness  of  Tophet;  they  who  lived  by  the 
sword  would  perish  by  the  sword,  and  the  Protestant 
cause  would  triumph  over  all  its  enemies.  When 
he  had  finished,  and  his  loud  Amen  was  repeated 
by  the  kneeling  men  around  him,  he  remained  for 
some  time  on  his  knees  apparently  engaged  in 
private  prayer.  Then  he  rose  to  his  feet  with  the 
prompt  alacrity  that  distinguished  him,  and  gave  the 
few  necessary  instructions  for  the  night. 

"  We  march  at  three, "  he  said  abruptly.  "  Ralston 
will  do  duty  at  the  Bridge,  and  Given  will  take 
the  church  at  the  upper  end  of  the  village.  La 


36  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

three  hours  they  will  be  relieved.  There  must  be 
no  sleeping  on  sentry  duty,  my  lads,"  he  added, 
with  additional  sternness  in  his  tone,  "  for  wre  do  not 
want  our  throats  cut  while  we  sleep.  This  is  not 
child's  play,  and  if  you  fail  in  aught  be  assured  you 
have  a  man  to  deal  with  who  knows  how  to  punish 
laggards. " 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room  abruptly  and 
the  men,  with  the  exception  of  the  two  who  had 
been  selected  for  duty,  settled  themselves  on  the 
earthen  floor  of  the  kitchen  to  snatch  a  brief  repose. 
Gervase  had  secured  for  himself  a  small  room  at 
the  end  of  the  house  in  which  there  was  a  rude 
bed,  and  which  he  had  proposed  to  share  with  the 
Vicomte  who,  however,  had  declined  his  offer.  The 
door  of  the  room,  which  was  of  oak,  was  secured 
by  a  heavy  bolt  and  this  he  fastened  carefully  behind 
him  when  he  entered  the  apartment.  The  moon 
was  shining  bright  and  the  sky  was  full  of  stars. 
From  the  little  window  Gervase  could  see  the  church 
tower  standing  square  and  black  in  the  soft  yellow 
moon-light,  and  the  little  river  winding  down  the 
valley  like  a  tangled  silver  thread.  Placing  his 
sword  within  reach  and  his  pistols  under  his  pillow, 
he  threw  himself  on  the  pallet.  But  for  some  time 
his  mind  was  too  busy  with  the  events  of  the  day 
to  allow  him  to  settle  himself  to  sleep.  Half  dreaming, 
half  awake,  he  saw  again  and  again  in  its  deadly 
agony  and  unspeakable  terror,  the  face  of  the  man 
whom  he  had  run  through  in  the  skirmish.  He 
heard  ringing  in  his  ears  the  wild  shouts  of  the 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT  THE  INN.  37 

charging  horsemen,  and  his  sword  was  raised  aloft 
to  strike,  when  his  strength  seemed  suddenly  to 
become  as  the  strength  of  a  little  child,  and  his 
heart  to  die  for  fear  within  him.  At  length,  worn 
out  with  the  labour  of  the  day,  he  fell  into  a  profound 
and  dreamless  sleep. 

It  was  long  past  midnight  when  he  was  awakened 
by  the  sound  of  the  crashing  and  splintering  of  wood, 
the  clash  of  weapons  and  the  glare  of  blazing  lights. 
Leaping,  dazed  and  bewildered,  from  his  bed,  he 
caught  up  his  sword,  and  placing  his  back  against 
the  wall,  prepared  to  sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible. 
Already  the  stout  oak  panels  had  given  way  under  the 
heavy  blows  that  were  being  dealt  from  the  outside. 
In  another  minute  the  door  fell  in  with  a  crash,  and 
the  room  was  filled  with  flashing  lights  and  a  crowd 
of  armed  ruffians.  At  the  sight  of  him  standing 
with  his  weapon  drawn,  his  assailants  halted  for  a 
moment;  then  someone  raised  the  cry :  "  Cut  the  throat 
of  the  heretic,"  and  there  was  a  simultaneous  rush 
upon  him.  They  were  so  crowded  together  that  they 
could  not  effectually  use  their  weapons,  and  to  his  own 
surprise  Gervase  was  able  to  keep  them  at  bay. 

When  the  first  shock  of  surprise  had  passed, 
and  it  passed  almost  immediately,  he  felt  his  eyes 
clear  and  his  nerves  steady  themselves  into  a  cool 
and  deliberate  resolve  to  die,  if  needs  must,  like  a 
valiant  fighting  man.  He  realized  at  a  glance  the 
extreme  desperateness  of  the  situation,  and  his  very 
despair  gave  him  courage.  His  grasp  was  firm  and 
strong  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and  the  pulses  of 


38  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

his  blood  began  to  beat  steadily.  In  after  days  he 
wondered  that  it  should  be  so,  and  like  a  simple 
and  courageous  gentleman,  he  set  it  down  to  no 
heroism  of  his  own,  but  to  the  inspiration  and  direction 
of  a  higher  Power.  In  a  moment  standing  there  he 
knew  what  had  happened.  The  sentinels  had  been 
surprised  at  their  post,  the  men  below  had  been  taken 
unawares  and  overpowered  without  resistance,  and 
the  hostelry  was  completely  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
For  him  there  was  no  hope  of  escape,  and  he  knew 
he  need  expect  no  quarter.  Leaping  upon  the  bed, 
he  parried  the  blows  that  were  dealt  at  him.  Again 
and  again  his  assailants  came  surging  up,  and  again 
and  again  he  cleared  the  deadly  circle  round  him. 
Already  two  or  three  bodies  lay  on  the  floor  below 
him:  his  sword  streamed  with  blood  from  the  point 
to  the  hilt.  For  a  moment  there  was  a  pause — his 
courage  and  coolness  had  checked  the  first  rush. 
Then  with  a  deep  oath  one  of  the  fellows  sprang 
forward,  and  caught  him  round  the  knees  with  a 
grasp  that  he  could  not  disengage,  and  another 
leaping  on  the  bed  beside  him,  sought  to  wrest  the 
weapon  from  his  hand.  He  thought  that  the  end 
was  come  and  that  in  another  minute  it  would  be 
all  over.  But  he  felt  his  strength  the  strength  of 
ten.  Dealing  one  of  the  fellows  a  tremendous  blow 
fair  and  straight  in  the  face,  he  shortened  his  sword 
and  ran  the  other  through  the  body;  without  a 
sound  the  man  rolled  over  and  fell  in  a  heap  on  the 
floor.  Again  the  circle  cleared  round  him  and  he  drew 
a  deep  breath.  Then  there  was  a  sound  of  rushing 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT  THE  INN.  39 

water  in  his  ears ;  the  room  swam  round  him ;  tottering 
and  falling  he  clung  to  the  wall  for  support.  Through 
a  blinding  mist  he  saw,  or  dreamt  he  saw,  the  gleam 
of  uplifted  weapons  round  him  ready  to  strike,  and 
he  wondered  that  they  did  not  make  an  end  of  him ; 
then  the  tall  figure  of  De  Laprade  with  his  rapier 
drawn,  striking  up  the  weapons  that  were  aimed  at 
him ;  surely,  too,  that  was  the  voice  of  the  gallant 
Vicomte? — "  What,  cowards!  would  you  slay  the  boy 
now  that  he  is  down,  when  you  could  not  face  him  with 
his  sword  in  his  hand  ?  Ah,  sang  de  Dieu !  you 
shall  not  touch  him.  I  command  you;  I,  Victor 
de  Laprade.  Mille  de  Diables  !  take  up  these  carcases 
and  see  if  there  is  any  life  left  in  them.  He  is  a 
gallant  gentleman,  and  you  shall  not  injure  a  hair 
of  his  head." 

To  the  reeling  brain  of  Gervase  all  was  wild 
tumult  and  disorder;  the  lights  blazed  round  him; 
the  flash  of  gleaming  steel  and  the  shadow  of  dark 
passionate  faces  came  and  went ;  the  strident  clamour 
of  angry  voices  sounded  as  from  immeasurable 
distances.  And  then  his  senses  failed  him  and  he 
remembered  no  more. 

When  consciousness  returned  he  was  lying  on 
the  bed  with  the  Vicomte  bending  over  him,  while 
a  little  dark  man  in  a  shabby  cloak  and  wig  very 
much  the  worse  for  wear,  was  stanching  the  blood 
that  flowed  from  a  wound  in  his  shoulder.  The 
room  had  been  cleared,  but  some  fellows  whose  faces 
showed  that  they  had  been  robbed  of  their  spoil, 
were  gathered  round  the  door,  and  looked  on  with 


40  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

countenances  that  betokened  little  goodwill  toward 
the  wounded  man.  The  little  surgeon  went  on  busily 
with  his  work  and  when  he  had  finished,  rubbed 
his  hands  with  an  air  of  satisfaction. 

"  A  neat  bit  of  work,  Vicomte ;  as  pretty  a  piece 
of  accidental  skilfulness  as  ever  I  saw  in  my  life. 
The  one  hundred  and  twelfth  part  of  an  inch  would 
have  relieved  this  tenement  of  clay  of  its  immortal 

soul,  and  being  a  heretic "  and  he  shook  his  head 

vigorously.  "  However,  'tis  but  a  trifle  to  one  who 
hath  youth  and  vigour.  This  excessive  bleeding  will 
relieve  him  of  sundry  humours  and  affections  that 
lurk  in  the  veins  of  youth,  and  in  a  day  or  two 
at  the  furthest  his  natural  strength  will  assert  itself. 
He  must  avoid  the  use  of  intoxicating  fluids.  But 
I'm  thinking,"  he  added,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes, 
"there  will  be  little  for  him  after  my  lord  and 
myself." 

Gervase  opened  his  eyes  and  attempted  to  rise, 
but  De  Laprade,  sitting  beside  him  on  the  bed, 
gently  restrained  him. 

"Be  not  in  too  great  haste,  my  friend,"  he  said. 
"  My  Lord  Galmoy  will  want  to  see  you  presently 
and  you  will  need  all  your  strength  for  the  in- 
terview. " 

"  A  very  deadly  disease  for  which  there  is  no 
remedy  known  to  the  faculty,"  added  the  surgeon; 
"especially  when  he  is  in  his  cups." 

"  Monsieur  le  Medicin,"  continued  De  Laprade, 
"  tells  me  your  wound  is  not  serious,  and  if  you 
can  listen  I  should  like  to  give  you  a  word  of 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT  THE  INN.  41 

advice,     though     little    accustomed     to     give    it." 

"  I  begin  to  feel  better,"  Gervase  answered.  "  The 
wound  is  a  trifle  painful  and  my  head  is  somewhat 
dull  withal,  but  I  have  strength  enough  left  to  thank 
you,  Vicomte,  for  your  help.  I  doubt  not  but  for 
your  kindly  assistance  I  had  now  been  past  this 
gentleman's  skill." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  friend,  'twas  nothing.  These 
wolves  have  a  taste  for  blood,  but  they  like  their 
game  better  dead  than  alive  and  are  easily  shaken 
off.  But  the  wolf — I  mean  the  gentleman — who  will 
presently  be  inquiring  for  you  is  altogether  different. 
Him  you  cannot  so  easily  satisfy.  I  should  advise 
you,  in  all  friendship,  to  answer  his  questions  as 
fully  as  becomes  a  man  of  honour,  and  not  needlessly 
to  offend  him.  For  myself,  if  I  can  be  of  assistance, 
you  may  rely  upon  me." 

"  I  shall  strive  to  do  as  you  say.  But  for  the 
others — what  became  of  Macpherson?" 

A  smile  passed  over  the  Vicomte's  face.  "  When 
la  belle  Marie  brought  my  Lord  Galmoy  to  the 
house,  he  made  sure  that  all  your  party  wrere  within, 
and  made  your  men  prisoners  before  they  could 
draw  a  sword  or  fire  a  shot.  But  your  captain, 
for  what  reason  I  know  not,  was  passing  the  night 
in  the  stable,  and  when  he  was  discovered  he  was 
already  armed  and  putting  the  saddle  on  his  great 
horse.  For  a  pious  Christian  who  is  given  to  long 
prayers,  he  swears  strangely.  But  he  is  a  brave 
man  and  can  fight  sans  doute.  It  was  beautiful  to 
see  him  swinging  his  long  sword  and  swearing 


42  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

great  oaths  that  I  did  not  wholly  understand.  They 
went  down  before  him  like  the  corn,  and  the  others 
fled  crying  that  it  was  the  devil.  For  myself  I 
admire  brave  men  and  did  not  care  to  help  the 
cowards.  I  doubt  not  he  and  I  will  meet  again; 
and  we  shall  finish  our  little  quarrel  and  one  of  us 
will  return  no  more." 

"  Then  he  made  his  escape — on  foot  or  on  horse- 
back?" 

"  The  great  horse  is  still  standing  in  the  bastle 
and  your  captain  must  walk  far,  Monsieur  Orme, 
before  he  is  at  home.  But  you  cannot  kill  such 
men;  they  do  not  easily  die.  If  M.  le  Medicin 
will  pardon  me,  I  might  suggest  that  we  can  now 
spare  him,  for  I  am  assured  that  there  are  others 
who  need  his  services." 

"  Faith, "  said  the  surgeon,  "  you  are  speaking 
the  truth,  Vicomte,  for  the  mellow  Falernian  has 
been  going  round,  and  I  can  hear  the  gentlemen 
already  in  their  cups.  For  you,  sir,  I  hope  to  see 
you  in  the  morning — though,"  he  added,  under  his 
breath,  "  as  like  as  not  with  a  cord  round  your  neck 
and  your  feet  in  the  air." 

"  And  now,  my  friend, "  said  De  Laprade,  when 
the  doctor  had  left  the  room,  "  I  doubt  not  you 
have  heard  of  what  manner  is  my  Lord  Galmoy. 
It  is  best  to  speak  plainly.  He  can  feel  no  pity 
nor  show  mercy.  He  cares  not  for  the  laws  of  war. 
Every  prisoner  is  only  an  enemy.  Should  you  answer 
him  boldly  I  think  your  death  is  certain;  even  I 
who  have  some  influence  with  him  could  not  save  you." 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT  THE  INN.  43 

"Have  no  fear  for  me,"  said  Gervase,  rising  to 
his  feet  and  feebly  attempting  to  stand ;  "  for  I  have 
little  fear  for  myself.  Life  is  sweet  and  I  do  not 
wish  to  die,  but  the  dread  of  death  will  not  make 
me  a  coward.  I  shall  die  as  I  have  humbly  striven 
to  live — though, "  he  added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  hanging 
is  hardly  seemly  for  a  gentleman.  I  knew  poor 
Charleton,  and  they  say  he  met  his  death  like  a 
man.  I  hope  I  may  do  the  same  when  my  time 
comes. " 

"These  are  but  heroics,"  said  the  Vicomte;  "we 
must  not  grumble  at  our  cards  but  play  the  game, 
and  yours — Well,  sir,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

A  sergeant  of  dragoons  entered  the  room  and 
swaggered  forward,  "  My  Lord  would  see  the  pri- 
soner, and  I  was  sent  to  fetch  him." 

"Tell  my  Lord  Galmoy  he  will  be  with  him 
in  an  instant,  and  that  he  is  badly  wounded.  I 
myself  will  attend  him  and  you  need  not  wait." 

"  Now,  my  dear  Orme, "  he  continued,  as  the  man 
left  the  room  with  a  doubtful  nod,  "  take  my  arm 
and  rely  on  my  services;  I  have  not  forgotten 
yours.  But  act  like  a  man  of  sense  and  forget 
your  sermons  until  you  are  among  your  friends." 

De  Laprade  gave  him  his  arm,  and  Gervase 
painfully  descended  the  crooked  staircase,  his  heart 
beating  loudly  and  his  hand  trembling  from  weakness 
and  exhaustion  as  he  leaned  on  his  companion. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  WAY  MY  LORD  GALMOY  SAT  IN  JUDGMENT. 

THE  character  of  Lord  Galmoy  had  recently  gained 
an  unenviable  notoriety  by  his  barbarous  murder  of 
Cornet  Charleton  and  Captain  Dixie  at  Fermoy,  nor 
were  there  wanting  those  who  asserted  there 
were  still  darker  stains  on  his  character  as  a  soldier. 
Such  a  man,  Gervase  well  knew,  would  not  stretch 
the  laws  of  war  in  his  favour,  and  it  was  more 
than  likely  that  this  savage  cavalry-leader  would 
not  be  disposed  to  treat  him  as  a  lawful  enemy 
taken  in  battle,  but  as  a  rebel  and  a  spy.  For 
such  there  was  a  short  shrift  and  a  long  rope. 

When  they  entered  the  kitchen,  the  scene  was 
one  of  the  liveliest  disorder  and  confusion.  The 
room  was  filled  with  soldiers  attired  in  every  describ- 
able  costume,  some  smoking  by  the  fire,  some  eating 
and  drinking,  and  all  endeavouring  to  make  them- 
selves heard  in  a  perfect  babel  of  tongues.  Hats, 
cloaks,  and  swords  were  piled  upon  the  table,  at 
the  furthest  end  of  which  was  seated  a  small  knot 
of  officers,  among  whom  Gervase  recognized  the 
little  surgeon  who  had  attended  to  his  wound,  now 
busily  engaged  in  discussing  the  contents  of  a  pewter 


MY   LORD   GALMOY.  45 

measure.  At  the  head  of  the  table  was  an  officer 
of  superior  rank,  and  near  him  stood  Hackett,  with 
his  hands  bound  behind  his  back  and  a  great  gash 
on  his  forehead.  He  had  evidently  been  under  exami- 
nation, and  his  replies  had  not  been  satisfactory  to 
the  officer  who  was  cross-examining  him.  At  a 
glance  Gervase  recognized  Lord  Galmoy.  His  wig 
was  pushed  back,  showing  the  closely-cropped  black 
hair  that  came  low  down  on  the  forehead.  His 
eyes  were  bloodshot  and  his  lips  trembled  with  pas- 
sion. Yet  the  face  was  a  handsome  one,  though 
marked  by  the  signs  of  excess  and  unbridled  indul- 
gence ;  a  face  weak  in  its  almost  feminine  regularity, 
with  delicately  marked  eyebrows,  regular  nose,  and 
rounded  chin;  his  hands  were  small  and  white  as 
those  of  a  woman. 

As  De  Laprade  made  his  way  through  the  troopers 
who  turned  to  stare  at  his  companion,  Galmoy  said 
to  the  men  who  were  in  charge  of  Hackett,  "  Do 
not  remove  him.  I  may  have  further  questions  to 
put  to  him.  And  now  for  this  young  cock  who  crowed 
loud  enough  to  bring  the  barn  down  about  our  ears  ; 
I  think  we  shall  soon  cut  his  spurs.  How  say  you, 
Vicomte  ?  " 

"I  am  under  obligations  to  the  gentleman,  my 
Lord, "  said  De  Laprade,  "  I  trust  your  Lordship  will 
not  deal  too  harshly  with  him." 

"  Why,  damme,  we  shall  all  be  under  obligations 
presently,  but  we  shall  see.  And  now,  sir,  what  is 
your  name  ?  " 

Gervase  caught  the  eye  of  the  Vicomte  fixed  on 


46  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

him  with  a  look  of  warning.  "My  name  is  Orme," 
he  said,  feeling  weak  and  faint  with  the  loss  of 
blood  and  the  great  heat  of  the  atmosphere. 

"And  your  rank  ?  " 

"  A  private  gentleman,  now  serving  with  other 
gentlemen  of  the  North  in  defence  of  our  liberties." 

"  And,  prithee,  who  gave  the  gentlemen  of  the 
North  commission  to  raise  regiments  or  levy  war 
on  His  Majesty's  subjects?  Do  you  know,  sir,  that 
being  found  with  arms  in  your  hand  without  lawful 
authority  to  carry  them,  'tis  my  duty  to  string  you 
up  as  a  warning  to  other  malcontents.  His  Majesty 
has  shown  too  much  long-suffering,  and  had  he 
been  wise  we  had  stamped  out  this  cursed  rebellion 
in  a  month.  There  is  one  King  in  Ireland,  and 
with  the  help  of  God  and  His  holy  saints  one  King 
there  will  be.  You  shall  drink  his  health,  and  that, 
damme,  in  a  bumper." 

"That,  with  your  Lordship's  pardon,  I  shall  not 
do, "  said  Gervase,  disregarding  De  Laprade's  gesture 
of  warning.  "  I  have  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  William  and  Mary,  and  to  do  what  your  Lordship 
asks  would  be  an  act  either  of  disloyalty  or  hypocrisy." 

"  We  shall  see, "  Galmoy  answered,  with  a  smile 
that  was  full  of  meaning.  "  Fill  up  a  cup,  Whitney, 
for  no  one  shall  say  that  we  did  not  give  this 
damned  rebel  a  chance.  And  now,  sir,  whither  and 
on  what  errand  were  you  away  when  we  inter- 
rupted your  journey  ?  " 

"  Our  destination  was  Enniskillen,  but  for  our 
errand,  from  answering  on  that  matter  I  pray  your 


MY  LORD   GALMOY.  47 

Lordship  to  hold  me  excused.  My  knowledge  of 
our  real  purpose  was  but  slight  and  would  advantage 
you  little." 

"  And  do  you  refuse  to  answer  a  plain  question, 
sir?" 

"I  have  given  your  Lordship  my  answer." 

Galmoy  pushed  his  chair  back  from  the  table 
and  his  face  grew  purple  with  passion.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  officers  who  were  sitting  round  him, 
bringing  his  hand  heavily  down  on  the  table.  "  God's 
blood,  gentlemen,  what  think  you  of  that?  I  have 
been  blamed  by  those  who  should  know  better,  for 
the  practice  of  a  little  just  severity,  and  His  Majesty 
would  pet  and  pamper  these  rebels  and  treat  them 
as  faithful  subjects  who  had  been  led  astray.  And 
here  you  have  the  issue.  Every  peasant  and  scurvy 
citizen  struts  about  with  armour  on  his  back  and  a 
weapon  in  his  hand,  as  if  by  the  grace  of  God  he 
had  divine  right  to  use  the  same.  These  are  airs 
that  will  find  no  countenance  while  I  am  master 
of  ceremonies." 

"This  young  gentleman  should  know  better,"  said 
one  of  the  officers  with  a  sneer,  "  for  if  I  mistake 
not  I  have  seen  him  before.  Pray,  sir,  have  we 
not  met  in  Dublin  when  you  were  of  Mountjoy's 
regiment?" 

"  You  can  do  what  you  please,"  said  Gervase, 
forgetting  the  caution  he  had  promised  himself  to 
observe ;  "  I  am  in  your  hands,  but  I  will  answer  no 
questions ;  and  if  it  be  your  good  pleasure  to  murder 
me,  on  your  heads  is  the  infamy." 


48  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  We  will  answer  for  ourselves  whatever  we  do, " 
Galmoy  answered.  "  But  remember,  the  toast  is 
waiting,  and  no  man  in  my  presence  will  refuse  to 
drink  to  the  health  of  His  Majesty." 

"  I  will  not  drink  it,  and  no  man  living  will 
force  me.  I  have  already  given  you  my  reasons." 

"  In  good  time, "  said  Galmoy,  "  we  shall  see. 
How  say  you,  Major?  Do  you  recognize  this  stiff- 
necked  Whig  as  being  lately  in  the  service  of  His 
Majesty?  " 

"  On  that  head, "  was  the  answer,  "  I  have  no 
doubt.  He  was  lodged  at  the  Bunch  of  Grapes 
hard  by  the  Castle,  and  though  we  were  not  intimate, 
I  have  seen  him  too  frequently  to  be  mistaken." 

"Then,  by  Heaven,  the  cup  of  his  transgression 
is  full  and  the  provost-marshal  must  see  that  he 
drinks  it.  I  will  take  the  matter  on  my  own  shoul- 
ders and  answer  for  it  to  whomsoever  may  question 
me.  Look  you,  sergeant,  take  the  prisoner  without, 
and  see  that  he  drinks  that  measure  of  wine.  A 
lighted  match,  if  properly  applied,  will  bring  him 
to  reason.  In  the  morning  you  will  see  that  he  is 
shot  before  the  door  an  hour  before  we  march, 
for  I  do  not  like  these  things  arranged  hurriedly. 
For  the  other  'twere  a  pity  he  should  not  bear  him 
company.  Let  them  both  go  together." 

Weakened  as  he  was  by  the  loss  of  blood,  and 
unstrung  by  the  ordeal  he  had  just  passed  through, 
Gervase  tottered  and  fell  on  the  bench  beside  which 
he  had  been  standing.  The  room  swam  round  him, 
and  though  he  strove  against  it  he  felt  that  his 


MY  LORD   GALMOY.  49 

senses  were  rapidly  failing  him.  He  would  have 
fallen  upon  the  floor,  but  De  Laprade  springing  for- 
ward and  placing  his  arm  round  him,  supported 
him  on  the  seat. 

Then  the  Vicomte  .  turned  to  Galmoy.  "  I  have 
said  nothing,  my  Lord,  because  I  did  not  wish  to 
interfere,  as  I  thought  your  Lordship  would  have 
treated  this  gentleman  as  a  fair  prisoner  of  war. 
It  is  now  my  duty  to  speak ;  I  trust  your  Lordship 
will  hear  me." 

Galmoy  had  now  recovered  his  temper  and 
answered  De  Laprade  with  a  show  of  courtesy. 
"  Certainly,  my  dear  Vicomte,  there  is  no  one  to 
whom  I  listen  with  greater  pleasure.  But  I  trust  you 
will  not  ask  me  to  alter  this  little  arrangement." 

"You  will  pardon  me;  I  have  told  you  that  I  am 
under  an  obligation  to  this  gentleman,  and  but  for 
that  obligation  I  should  have  been  lying  beside 
Luttrel  on  the  high-road.  I  always  endeavour  to 
pay  my  debts  of  honour,  and  if  need  be  I  borrow 
from  my  friends  to  discharge  them." 

"Faith!  my  creditors  will  tell  you  that  I  find  it 
hard  enough  to  discharge  my  own." 

"  When  the  fight  was  over,  the  captain  who  has 
escaped  showed  a  great  mind  to  pistol  me,  when 
this  Monsieur  Orme,  at  great  peril  to  his  life,  for  I 
apprehended  a  pretty  quarrel,  stepped  between  us 
and  compelled  him  to  forbear.  To  him  -I  owe  my 
life,  and  I  should  be  wanting  in  gratitude  if  I  failed 
to  avow  the  service  he  has  done  me." 

"  There  is  not  a  traitor  or  a  rebel  in  the  country 

4 


5o  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

who  has  not  a  loyal  subject  to  plead  for  him.  God's 
wounds!  Viscount,  you  forget  that  he  first  attacked 
you  on  the  high  road,  and  that  he  has  worn  the 
uniform  of  His  Majesty,  whom  Heaven  preserve." 

"  But,  my  Lord,  I  do  not  forget.  These  rebels 
have  not  saved  my  life  and  I  do  not  intercede  for 
them.  I  have  lent  my  sword  and  service  to  the 
King  of  England,  but  I  do  not  forget  that  I  am  a 
gentleman  and  a  man  of  honour.  In  France  we  do 
not  put  our  prisoners  to  the  torture,  nor  will  I  fight 
in  the  company  of  those  who  do.  Rather  would  I 
break  my  sword  across  my  knees  and  disown  the 
name  I  bear." 

"  The  Vicomte  de  Laprade  is  right,  my  Lord, " 
said  the  officer  who  had  recognized  Gervase. 
u  Gratitude  is  a  most  estimable  virtue,  and  exceed- 
ingly rare.  In  return  for  his  services  perhaps  your 
Lordship  will  pretermit  the  young  gentleman's  drinking 
the  health,  and  merely  give  him  his  dry  quietus  in 
the  morning." 

"  With  you,  sir, "  said  De  Laprade  coldly,  "  I  have 
no  dealings  now  nor  at  any  future  time.  I  ask  you, 
my  Lord,  for  this  gentleman's  life.  'Tis  the  only 
return  I  am  likely  to  receive,  and  indeed  it  is  all 
I  ask." 

"  I  regret,  my  dear  Vicomte,  that  I  am  unable  to 
do  your  will  in  this  matter,  but  we  must  hold  out 
a  warning  to  others.  However,  as  Butler  has  sug- 
gested, he  need  not  dance  to-night.  Sergeant,  you 
need  not  apply  the  thumbscrew.  And  for  you,  sir, 
you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  set  the  example 


MY  LORD   GALMOY.  51 

you  hinted  at.  As  it  is,  you  may  thank  Viscount  de 
Laprade  that  you  have  escaped  a  dram  that  was 
like  to  prove  bitter  enough,  but  had  I  had  my  own 
way,  you  should  have  had  both  the  dram  and  the 
halter  for  a  renegade  deserter." 

"Am  I  then,  my  Lord  Galmoy,  to  understand 
that  you  refuse  to  accede  to  my  request?  and  that 
the  gentleman  in  whom  your  Lordship  sees  I  am 
so  deeply  interested  must  die  in  the  morning?" 

Galmoy  nodded  and  motioned  to  the  officer  who 
sat  nearest  him  to  pass  the  wine. 

"I  know  not,"  De  Laprade  continued,  drawing 
himself  up  haughtily,  "whether  it  is  because  my 
sword  and  friendship  are  of  so  little  value  and  are 
held  in  so  slight  esteem,  that  this  simple  favour  is 
denied  me,  or  because  in  this  country  gentlemen  are 
deaf  to  the  voice  of  expediency.  But  I  know  that 
the  brave  Luttrel,  and  a  braver  man  never  drew  a 
sword,  met  his  death  because  you,  sir,  have  seen 
good  to  bring  in  the  executioner  where  the  soldier 
fails." 

"  Bah!  we  will  not  quarrel,  though  I  will  not 
answer  for  my  temper  should  you  provoke  me 
further.  You  do  not  understand  these  matters,  but 
for  my  part  I  hold  it  a  safe  rule  to  let  every  country 
manage  its  own  affairs  according  to  its  own  cus- 
toms. Damme,  man,  this  is  not  the  court  of  Ver- 
sailles, but  the  country  of  Whiggery  and  pestilent 
traitors,  where  every  Jack-pudding  is  up  in  arms 
against  his  king  and  master.  In  a  few  months 
you  will  have  learned  not  to  be  so  whimsical." 


52  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"I  trust  that  I  shall  never  learn  to  forget  that  I 
am  a  gentleman." 

De  Laprade's  manner  was  so  pointed  and  his  tone 
so  full  of  fine,  studied  disdain  that  Galmoy,  who 
could  not  fail  to  see  that  an  insult  was  intended, 
leapt  to  his  feet  and  drew  his  sword.  In  an  instant 
his  example  was  followed  by  the  Vicomte.  But 
they  were  not  permitted  to  fight  out  their  quarrel, 
for  several  gentlemen  threw  themselves  between 
them,  and  succeede'd  in  disarming  them  both;  not, 
however,  without  difficulty  in  the  case  of  Galmoy, 
who  seemed  almost  to  have  been  deprived  of  his 
reason  in  the  excess  of  his  passion.  In  vain  they 
endeavoured  to  assure  him  that  no  insult  had  been 
intended,  and  that  he  had  misinterpreted  the  Vi- 
comte's  words,  while  the  Vicomte  himself  stood  look- 
ing on  with  a  smile  playing  round  his  lips,  cool  and 
unconcerned  as  was  his  wont. 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  Gervase  was  removed 
from  the  room  into  the  open  air.  His  guards  per- 
mitted him  to  sit  down  on  the  stone  drinking-trough 
outside  the  door,  while  one  of  them  went  to  prepare 
a  place  in  which  he  might  pass  the  night  securely. 
Bending  down  till  his  forehead  touched  his  knees, 
he  endeavoured  vainly  to  collect  his  thoughts  and 
to  realize  what  had  happened,  for  his  mind  was  still 
confused  and  weak.  He  knew  that  he  was  about 
to  die,  but  it  seemed  to  him  at  that  moment  as  if 
it  were  another  and  not  himself  who  had  taken  part 
in  the  drama  that  had  just  concluded.  For  himself, 
he  was  drifting  blindly  among  shadows  that  grew 


MY  LORD   GALMOY.  53 

thicker  and  darker  as  he  sought  to  dispel  them. 
The  voices  he  had  heard  were  still  ringing  in  his 
ears;  the  faces  he  had  seen  were  still  coming  and 
going.  Then  he  heard  the  voice  of  Hackett  and 
looked  up.  The  old  sergeant  was  standing  beside 
him  with  his  hands  still  bound  behind  his  back,  and 
his  grey  hair  hanging,  matted  and  stained  with  blood, 
about  his  face. 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  Mr.  Orme,  it  will  soon  be 
over,  sir,"  he  said,  with  homely  dignity.  "I  am 
proud  to  think  that  you  bore  yourself  bravely,  and 
showed  them  that  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian  does 
not  fear  death.  I  should  have  liked,  if  it  had  so 
pleased  the  Almighty,  to  have  died  on  the  field  of 
battle,  but  since  'tis  His  will,  then  His  will  be  done. 
It  is  not  for  us  to  complain  or  dispute  the  great 
decrees.  I  will  see  you  in  the  morning,  sir,"  he 
added,  as  his  guards  prepared  to  lead  him  away, 
*  and  it  may  hap  that  we  shall  enter  the  Kingdom 
together. " 

Gervase  was  conducted  to  a  low  outhouse  where 
a  quantity  of  fresh  straw  had  been  spread  for  him, 
and  one  of  the  troopers,  with  rough  goodnature,, 
threw  a  horse  cloth  over  his  shoulders,  for  the  night 
had  grown  chilly  and  he  was  shivering  with  cold. 
Then  they  withdrew,  locking  the  door  behind  them, 
and  left  him  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  provost- 
marshal  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  HOW  THE  VICOMTE  PAID  HIS  DEBT. 

ORME  lay  for  a  considerable  time  in  a  dull  stupor, 
unable  to  collect  his  thoughts,  but  by  degrees  his 
senses  came  back,  and  he  awoke  to  the  situation 
in  which  he  was  placed.  He  believed  that  it  was 
idle  to  hope  for  mercy;  he  was  in  the  hands  of  a 
man  who  was  not  likely  to  trouble  himself  further 
about  his  fate.  He  felt  that  he  must  die,  and  that 
he  must  face  death  with  what  courage  he  could 
command.  He  had  never  thought  much  about  it 
before,  but  now  when  he  stood  face  to  face  with 
death,  it  became  so  real  and  so  terrible  that  for  a 
time  he  stood  aghast  at  the  contemplation.  He 
saw  with  awful  vividness  the  preparations  of  the 
morning,  and  he  thought  of  the  moment  when  his 
soul  and  body  would  part  company  for  ever.  He 
was  young,  and  the  great  mysteries  of  life  and 
death  had  never  troubled  him.  The  path  of  his 
duty  had  been  simple  and  plain;  to  stand  by  the 
truth,  to  show  himself  modest  and  pure  and  valorous 
always,  to  betray  no  trust,  and  to  worship  God 
according  to  the  custom  of  his  fathers — this  was 
his  creed  and  his  plan  of  life;  according  to  this  he 
had  sought  to  live  and  die.  He  had  no  desire  for 


HOW  THE  VICOMTE   PAID   HIS   DEBT.  55 

the  martyr's  death  and  the  martyr's  crown ;  he  loved 
life  and  clung  to  it,  and  now  all  the  more  when 
he  was  in  danger  of  losing  it.  Men  like  Hackett 
might  find  consolation  and  support  in  religion  at  a 
time  like  this,  but  for  himself  it  could  not  lift  him 
supeiior  to  the  fear  of  suffering  and  the  dread  of 
death.  There  was,  however,  some  consolation  in 
the  thought  that  he  had  striven  honestly  to  do  his 
duty,  and  that  he  had  not  begged  in  any  unmanly 
way  for  life.  Then  his  thoughts  took  another  turn, 
and  his  whole  past  life  unrolled  itself  before  him. 
Incidents  of  his  boyhood  that  he  had  long  forgotten 
came  fresh  into  his  mind.  He  saw  the  stream  and 
the  stepping-stones  where  he  had  been  used  to 
fish,  and  the  patches  of  sunshine  glinting  on  the 
water  through  the  willows;  the  old  stone  house  and 
its  tall  chimneys  lifting  themselves  among  the  oaks 
and  firs ;  the  dark  wainscoted  room  where  his 
father  had  taught  him  from  Tacitus  and  Caesar; 
and  he  longed  with  a  great  longing  for  life. 

He  raised  himself  from  the  straw  and  stretched 
out  his  hands  in  the  darkness.  The  walls  of  the 
shieling  in  which  he  was  confined  were  of  wood, 
and  he  did  not  doubt  that  had  he  not  been  disabled 
he  could  have  forced  his  way  out.  As  it  was 
escape  even  yet  might  be  possible.  To  feel  again 
the  fresh  wind  blowing  across  the  hillside  and  see 
the  clear  light  of  the  stars,  and  the  dark  green 
fields  stretching  under  them — the  thought  gave  him 
strength  and  courage.  Feeling  carefully  along  the 
walls  of  the  shed,  and  searching  for  a  loose  plank 


56  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

he  came  to  the  door  which  opened  from  without.  He 
stood  listening  for  the  tread  of  the  sentry's  feet,  but 
there  was  no  sound  audible  but  the  beating  of  his 
own  heart  that  throbbed  wildly  with  the  hope  of 
escape.  The  door  was  not  guarded.  The  planks 
of  which  the  door  was  made,  were  light  and  had 
been  roughly  put  together,  but  he  found  it  impos- 
sible to  make  any  impression  upon  them,  though  he 
strained  and  pulled  till  his  wound  broke  out  afresh. 
In  the  darkness  he  searched  for  a  weapon  that 
might  assist  him,  but  he  could  find  nothing  suited 
to  his  purpose.  Again  he  followed  the  walls  of  the 
shed  with  his  hands,  searching  carefully  for  a  weak 
place  in  the  timbers,  but  again  he  was  unsuccess- 
ful. Then  the  great  wave  of  hope  subsided,  and 
he  threw  himself  once  more  upon  the  straw  to 
compose  his  mind  to  meet  with  resignation  the 
fate  that  was  before  him.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
hope  of  escape  left.  By  degrees  he  grew  calm, 
and  from  some  odd  corner  in  his  brain  there  came 
to  his  mind  the  lines — 

"Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage ; 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 
That  for  an  hermitage. " 

Again  and  again  they  repeated  themselves  until 
they  seemed  almost  to  lose  their  meaning  for  him ; 
but  the  feeling  remained  with  him,  and  by  and  by 
he  found  himself  looking  forward  to  the  morning 
with  resignation. 

Suddenly    in    the    unbroken   quiet    he    heard  the 


HOW   THE  VICOMTE  PAID   HIS   DEBT.  57 

sound  of  footsteps  on  the  causeway  without;  then  the 
door  of  the  shed  was  opened,  someone  entered, 
and  the  flash  of  a  lantern  for  a  moment  dazzled 
his  eyes.  It  was  De  Laprade,  flushed  with  wine 
and  somewhat  unsteady  in  his  gait.  Closing  the 
door  behind  him,  he  looked  round  and  saw  Gervase 
lying  in  the  corner. 

"  Eh,  mon  ami!  "  he  said,  laying  down  the  lantern 
and  removing  his  cloak,  "  but  you  have  had  a  bad 
quarter  of  an  hour.  It  was  my  fear  that  they 
would  hang  you  at  once,  for  these  gentlemen  are 
not  nice  in  their  manners  nor  long  in  their  grace. 
It  would  give  me  much  delight  to  measure  swords 
with  Galmoy,  but  the  barbarian  will  not  fight 
save  when  he  is  drunk,  and  then  I  am  generally 
far  from  sober  myself.  These  are  not  comfortable 
quarters, "  he  added  abruptly,  looking  round  him 
and  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"They  are  good  enough  for  a  dying  man  who 
has  but  a  few  hours  to  live,"  said  Gervase  gravely. 

"  For  that  we  shall  see, "  was  the  answer.  "  They 
have  succeeded,  not  without  difficulty,  in  putting 
my  colonel  to  bed,  and  his  condition  is  such  that 
he  will  be  hard  to  awake.  I,  Victor  de  Laprade, 
will  now  proceed  to  arrange  matters  for  him.  Are 
you  able  to  stand  ?  " 

Gervase  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  meaning  and  again 
a  wild  hope  arose  in  his  heart.  But  reflecting  for  a 
moment,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  take  advantage 
of  the  gallant  Frenchman's  generosity,  and  he  shook 
his  head.  "  I  cannot  allow  you,"  he  said,  "  to  undergo 


58  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

further  risk  for  me;  I  cannot  do  it;  already  you 
have  far  more  than  repaid  any  kindness  I  was  able 
to  render  you." 

"  Have  no  fear  for  me ;  I  am  able  to  answer  any 
man  who  may  dare  to  question  me  in  what  I  do 
or  leave  undone.  You  do  not  know  me,  Mr.  Orme. 
No  man  shall  prevent  my  paying  my  debts  of  honour, 
whether  they  be  debts  of  friendship  or  enmity.  And 
shall  I  refuse  to  give  him  his  life  to  whom  I  owe 
my  own,  when  I  have  merely  to  turn  the  key  in  the 
door  and  say,  'Friend,  that  is  your  road'?  It  is 
impossible." 

"  But  you  do  not  recollect " 

"  I  recollect  perfectly.  Let  us  not  enter  into  heroics, 
my  friend,  for  this  thing  is  simple  and  easy.  Galmoy 
shall  not  know  that  to  me  you  owe  your  escape; 
indeed  it  is  probable  that  in  the  morning  he  will 
have  forgotten  you  altogether,  and  remember  only 
his  headache.  I  have  already  provided  you  with  a 
horse;  your  captain's  great  beast  is  the  best  in  the 
stable;  and  for  a  passport,  this  will  have  to  serve 
your  turn,  though  it  will  be  best  that  you  should 
avoid  showing  it  too  frequently.  The  name  of  De 
Laprade  will  not  carry  you  far  in  this  barbarous 
country.  But,  in  faith,  the  signature  might  pass  for 
that  of  His  Majesty  King  Louis  himself,  or  for  that 
matter,  of  my  Lord  Galmoy.  The  handwriting  is 
hardly  as  sober  as  I  could  wish — indeed,  it  is 
cursedly  tipsy.  When  we  next  meet  it  may  be  at  the 
sword's  point,  in  which  case  it  were  well  to  forget 
this  interlude  of  Corydon  and  Strephon  and  try  what 


HOW  THE  VICOMTE  PAID   HIS   DEBT.  59 

yesterday  we  failed  to  finish.  I  have  a  pretty  thrust 
in  tierce  that  I  should  like  to  show  you." 

"  If  we  meet  I  hope  it  will  never  be  as  enemies, " 
said  Gervase  with  warmth,  "  for  I  can  never  forget 
how  much  I  owe  you.  I  fear  you  undergo  great 
risk  in  thus  serving  me." 

"  Find  yourself  safe  on  shipboard  or  within  the 
walls  of  Londonderry,  and  trouble  not  yourself  about 
any  danger  that  I  may  run.  I  can  protect  my  reputation 
and  my  honour  with  my  sword,  and  for  this  act  if 
need  be  I  shall  answer  to  the  king  himself,  though 
I  fear  he  has  not  the  nice  sense  of  honour.  I  knew 
him  in  Whitehall ;  he  is  no  king,  but  a  priest  in  the 
purple,  and  a  priest  without  piety.  Your  William  is 
cold,  but  he  is  the  better  man.  There  is  but  one 
thing  more.  Should  you  again  find  your  captain, 
tell  him  that  I  have  not  forgotten  his  promise,  and 
that  I  look  forward  with  eagerness  to  our  next 
interview.  I  have  crossed  swords  with  Lauzun  and 
Hamilton  and  will  teach  the  clown  to  threaten  a 
gentleman.  That  is  finished,  and  now  to  horse." 

Raising  Gervase  from  the  ground,  he  supported 
him  to  the  door,  in  the  meantime  wrapping  his  own 
cloak  about  his  shoulders  and  warning  him  that  the 
night  air  was  bad  for  a  green  wound.  Then  he  left 
him  for  a  minute  and  returned  almost  immediately 
with  Macpherson's  grey  charger,  already  harnessed. 
The  windows  of  the  tavern  were  still  aglow  with  light, 
and  the  sound  of  loud  and  uproarious  laughter  rang 
on  the  quiet  night  as  he  helped  Gervase  into  the 
the  saddle.  There  was  little  likelihood  of  pursuit,  for 


60  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

it  was  clear  that  no  precautions  had  been  taken  to 
guard  the  prisoners,  and  before  Gervase  was  missed 
he  would  have  put  many  a  good  mile  between  himself 
and  his  pursuers.  The  only  fear  was,  that  weak  and 
exhausted  as  he  was,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him 
to  continue  his  journey  for  any  length  of  time.  Still, 
there  was  the  sense  of  the  removal  of  a  great  dread, 
and  a  feeling  of  joyous  freedom  that  gave  him  new 
heart  and  strength.  He  gathered  up  the  reins  in 
his  hands  and  at  that  moment  the  recollection  of 
Hackett  flashed  upon  his  mind. 

"  It  was  selfish  and  cowardly  of  me  to  have 
forgotten,"  he  said.  "Is  it  not  also  possible  to  save 
the  sergeant?  I  feel  that  I  am  deserting  a  comrade 
and  I  should  not  like  to  leave  him." 

"What  can  you  do  for  him,"  said  De  Laprade, 
"  but  make  one  more  for  the  hangman  ?  Your  remain- 
ing will  not  save  him;  your  going  cannot  harm  him. 
I  cannot  do  more  than  I  have  done,  but  I  tell  you 
to  be  of  good  courage  regarding  his  safety,  for  I 
give  you  my  word  of  honour  that  I  will  do  what 
I  can  for  the  psalm-singing  rogue.  Be  of  good 
cheer.  And  now  you  will  find  a  pistol  in  your 
holster  which  may  be  of  some  use.  It  may  be  we 
shall  meet  again.  Farewell!  " 

Gervase  wrung  De  Laprade's  hand  in  silence  and 
giving  his  impatient  horse  the  rein  passed  through 
the  yard,  and  found  himself  in  the  village  street 
which  lay  quiet  and  dark  before  him.  The  tower 
of  the  church  was  darkly  outlined  against  the  starlit 
sky,  and  from  a  distance  the  murmur  of  the  little 


HOW   THE  VICOMTE  PAID   HIS  DEBT.  6 1 

stream  stole  with  a  hushed  and  solemn  music  through 
the  night.  Nowhere  was  there  sight  or  sound  of 
life;  to  the  ear  of  the  rider  the  hoofs  of  the  horse 
rang  upon  the  road  with  startling  distinctness,  though 
he  walked  him  slowly  past  the  sleeping  houses. 
Then  he  came  to  the  bridge,  and  on  the  bridge  the 
the  horse  started  suddenly  and  sniffed  at  something 
lying  at  his  feet.  The  night  was  dark  with  the 
moon  lifting  faintly  through  a  bank  of  cloud,  but 
Gervase  saw  on  the  road  the  body  of  a  man  lying 
on  his  back  with  his  arms  outspread.  He  dismounted 
with  difficulty  and  stooping  down,  saw  it  was  Ralston. 
The  body  was  already  cold  and  the  pulse  had  ceased 
to  beat.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  been  surprised 
at  his  post,  for  his  carbine  lay  undischarged  at  his 
side,  and  the  long  sword  he  had  carried  lay  under 
him,  unloosed  from  the  scabbard.  This  was  the 
young  fellow  whose  merry  song  had  disturbed 
Macpherson  in  the  morning — his  lips  were  silent 
enough  now.  Gervase  bent  down  and  touched  the 
cold  forehead.  As  yet  he  had  not  grown  callous 
to  the  sight  of  sudden  death,  and  it  was  with  a 
lump  in  his  throat  and  a  mist  before  his  eyes  that 
he  again  set  out  on  his  perilous  journey. 

The  road,  a  mere  cart-track,  wound  for  several 
miles  up  the  hill,  climbing  for  the  most  part  through 
a  dense  growth  of  stunted  firs,  but  here  and  there 
winding  through  the  open  bog  and  hardly  to  be 
distinguished  from  it.  But  the  great  horse  seemed 
to  have  a  natural  instinct  for  the  beaten  track,  and 
put  his  generous  shoulders  bravely  to  it.  So  steady 


62  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

he  was  and  so  footsure,  that  his  rider  let  the  reins 
fall  upon  his  neck  and  left  him  to  choose  his  path 
as  he  pleased.  A  small  rain  had  begun  to  fall  and 
there  was  a  sharpness  in  the  wind  blowing  down 
the  mountain-gap.  But  Gervase  heeded  neither 
the  rain  nor  the  wind.  For  a  time  the  sense  of 
deliverance  swallowed  up  every  other  thought,  but 
presently  he  began  to  consider  what  fate  was  in 
store  for  him.  It  was  hardly  likely  that  he  could 
reach  Londonderry  in  safety,  for  the  enemy  would 
by  that  time  no  doubt  have  completely  invested 
the  city;  and  there  was  only  a  remote  chance  of 
his  finding  a  ship  in  Lough  Foyle,  could  he  get 
so  far.  He  had  now  no  doubt  that  the  enemy  held 
possession  of  the  roads;  should  he  be  fortunate 
enough  to  meet  with  part  of  the  regular  force* he 
did  not  much  doubt  that  as  a  prisoner  he  would 
receive  honourable  terms,  but  should  he  meet  with 
a  body  of  those  marauders  who  hung  on  the  skirts 
of  the  regular  army  and  whose  main  business  was 
robbery  and  murder,  there  was  little  hope  of  his 
life.  But,  after  all,  was  it  not  idle  to  hope  to  escape 
at  all?  Wounded  as  he  was  he  could  not  long  continue 
his  journey  but  must  inevitably  sink  from  weakness 
and  exhaustion. 

The  road  began  to  descend  once  more  into  the 
valley,  and  under  the  grey  light  of  the  early  dawn 
he  could  see  the  fields  and  hedgerows  sloping  down 
to  where  the  little  river  ran  through  clumps  of  hazel 
and  osier.  As  he  drew  towards  the  river  the  sound 
of  running  water  was  pleasant  to  hear  in  the  unbroken 


"THE  STRANGER   CAUGHT   HIS   HORSE  BY   THK   REIN 


HOW    THE  VICOMTE  PAID   HIS   DEBT.  63 

silence — a  sign  of  movement  and  life.  After  a 
while  the  road  grew  narrow  and  ran  through  an  arch 
of  tall  poplars,  through  which  he  could  see  the  dull 
red  light  of  the  rising  dawn  at  the  further  end. 
On  one  side  of  the  road  was  a  sluggish  pool  of 
water  and  on  the  other  a  high  hedge  of  thorns. 
He  had  ridden  half  way  through  this  dark  colonnade 
when  he  saw  the  figure  of  a  man  standing  in  the 
shadow,  apparently  awaiting  his  approach.  He  could 
not  see  his  face  but  he  could  see  that  he  had  a 
weapon  in  his  hand.  He  instinctively  drew  from 
his  holster  the  pistol  with  which  De  Laprade  had 
provided  him,  and  was  about  to  drive  his  spurs 
into  the  charger's  flanks,  when  the  stranger  sprang 
forward,  caught  his  horse  by  the  rein,  and  placed 
the  point  of  a  sword  at  his  throat.  Gervase 
presented  his  pistol  at  the  head  of  his  assailant  and 
fired  point-blank,  but  the  hammer  snapped  ineffec- 
tually on  the  flint.  Then  he  drave  the  spurs  deep 
into  the  horse's  sides,  but  he  stopped  short  and 
refused  to  move. 

"  This  has  come  as  an  answer  to  prayer,"  said  a 
deep  voice.  "  Dismount,  sir,  and  that  speedily ;  I 
have  business  to  do  that  will  not  brook  delay  and 
your  necessity,  however  pressing,  must  yield  to  mine." 

In  a  moment  Gervase  recognized  the  full  sonorous 
voice  as  that  of  Macpherson.  The  horse,  too,  had 
recognized  his  master,  for  he  gave  a  joyous  whinney. 

"  Use  no  force,  Captain  Macpherson, "  said  Ger- 
vase ;  "  right  glad  am  I  to  see  you,  for  I  had  begun 
to  fear  that  we  should  meet  no  more." 


64  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"It  is  Mr.  Orme,"  said  the  old  soldier,  lowering 
the  point  of  his  weapon  and  placing  his  hand  on 
the  horse's  neck.  "I  knew  not  what  withheld  my 
hand  that  I  did  not  strike,  but  now  I  know.  Little 
did  I  think  as  I  heard  the  sound  of  the  horse's 
feet  far  down  the  road  that  I  was  listening  to  the 
tramp  of  my  brave  Bayard,  or  that  it  was  for  you 
that  I  held  my  sword  and  prepared  to  strike  hard 
and  deep.  It  was  God's  mercy  that  my  pistol  was 
left  behind  or  I  should  have  brought  you  down 
like  a  laverock  on  the  wing.  And  how  have  the 
others  fared  ? " 

Gervase  told  him  briefly  wrhat  had  happened, 
explaining  how  he  owed  his  life  to  the  kindness  of 
De  Laprade,  and  how  Hackett  had  been  left  behind, 
with  ths  prospect  of  a  violent  death  before  him. 

Macpherson  interrupted  him  with  many  inter- 
jaculations,  and  when  he  had  finished  exclaimed 
dejectedly : 

"My  fault,  my  fault!  that  comes  of  sending  a 
boy  to  do  a  man's  errand.  The  lad  fell  asleep  and 
the  villains  stole  a  march  on  us.  There  is  no  use 
crying  over  milk  that  is  spilt,  but  I  would  that  I 
had  arranged  it  otherwise.  And  old  Hackett — I 
saw  he  was  made  of  the  right  stuff;  they  may 
break  but  they  will  not  bend  him.  I  will  yet  make 
them  pay  for  it.  And  now  let  us  hold  a  council 
of  war,  for  in  no  case  can  we  let  the  grass  grow 
under  our  feet." 

"  I  fear,"  said  Gervase,  leaning  forward  on  the 
horse's  neck  and  feeling  faint  and  ill,  "that  I  am 


HOW  THE  VICOMTE  PAID   HIS  DEBT.  65 

not  in  a  condition  to  travel  with  much  expedition. 
I  have  lost  some  blood  though  I  do  not  think 
the  wound  is  serious." 

u  Hell's  fury !  man,  why  did  you  not  tell  me  that 
you  had  been  touched?  Here  have  we  been  talk- 
ing like  a  pair  of  garrulous  gossips,  while  haply 
in  the  meantime  your  wound  needs  that  I  should 
look  to  it.  A  hospital  hath  been  made  ready  to 
our  hand,  and  if  needs  be  we  can  pass  a  day  or 
two  here  in  safety,  for  I  do  not  think  the  enemy 
will  trouble  us.  I  had  already  made  my  bivouac, 
when  I  heard  Bayard  on  the  road,  and  turned  out 
to  see  if  I  could  not  better  my  fortune." 

Taking  the  horse  by  the  bridle  he  led  him  a 
short  distance  down  the  road,  and  then  turning 
abruptly  up  a  path  to  the  right  through  a  small 
plantation  of  oaks  and  poplars,  came  upon  an  open 
space,  lately  used  as  a  farm-yard,  before  a  low 
thatched  house  built  of  stone  and  roughly  plastered 
over.  The  roof  had  been  fired  at  one  end,  but  the 
oak  rafters  were  still  standing  blackened  and  charred ; 
at  the  other,  where  the  thatch  had  not  ignited,  the  roof 
was  still  intact.  The  door  lay  open,  through  which 
shone  the  glow  of  a  hospitable  fire  that  burned  in 
the  open  hearth.  Macpherson  had  fastened  his 
cloak  against  the  open  window  to  shut  in  the  light 
and  prevent  it  being  seen  from  the  outside.  The 
greater  portion  of  the  simple  furniture  still  stood 
as  the  owner  had  left  it — a  high-backed  oak  chair 
drawn  up  to  the  hearth,  the  rough  earthenware 
ranged  upon  a  dresser  against  the  wall,  a  bed, 

5 


66  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN.     . 

known  as  a  settle,  in  a  corner,  and  a  small  table 
roughly  put  together,  under  the  window. 

Macpherson  helped  his  young  friend  off  the  horse 
and  gently  supported  him  into  the  kitchen.  "  We 
will  look  to  your  wound  presently,"  he  said,  "but 
first  it  behoves  us  to  set  our  guard  and  prepare 
against  the  approach  of  the  enemy.  Howbeit  they 
will  not  trouble  us  here;  we  may  lie  perdu  for  a 
week  if  needs  must,  though  it  were  well  we  should 
be  astir  as  soon  as  you  think  you  can  travel." 

"  A  day's  rest  will  set  me  on  my  feet,  I  doubt 
not,"  said  Gervase  wearily,  "  but  we  cannot  live 
without  food,  though  the  bullet  they  have  bestowed 
on  me  has  somewhat  robbed  me  of  an  appetite." 

"Be  not  troubled  on  that  score;  I  am  too  long 
campaigning  not  to  have  an  eye  to  the  commissariat, 
which  matter  is  too  often  neglected  by  the  great 
masters  of  strategy ;  'tis  half  the  art  of  war.  There 
are  several  measures  of  meal  in  the  chest  yonder; 
there  are  some  lean  fowl  roosting  in  the  byre,  and 
I  heard  the  lowing  of  a  cow  in  the  little  meadow 
at  the  foot  of  the  orchard,  though  I  cannot  under- 
stand why  her  owner  should  have  left  her  behind, 
unless,  as  I  take  to  have  been  the  case,  his  flitting 
was  of  the  speediest.  But  why  the  rogues  should 
have  overlooked  spoil  so  much  to  their  mind  passes 
my  comprehension." 

"  Perchance,"  said  Gervase,  with  a  wan  smile, 
"'tis  vox  et  praeterea  nihil" 

"  A  vox  that  runs  on  four  legs,  and  will 
furnish  us  with  some  excellent  beef  when  I  have 


HOW   THE  VICOMTE  PAID   HIS   DEBT.  67 

passed  my  sword  across  the  throat  of  the  same. 
I  remember  that  such  a  beast  furnished  five  of 
us  with  excellent,  if  scanty,  sustenance  for  a  month, 
until  we  fell  out  over  the  horns  and  hoofs,  and  two 
of  us  were  removed  thereafter  from  all  need  of 
earthly  provender.  But  'tis  not  likely  that  thou 
and  I  will  come  to  such  a  pass, "  he  added,  holding 
out  his  broad  brown  palm,  while  a  gleam  of  kindly 
humour  lighted  up  his  rugged  face. 

"  I  am  but  fit  for  the  hospital,  and  am  like  to  be 
a  heavy  burden  on  your  hands." 

"  Tut,  tut,  man,  never  despair  till  the  last  shot 
is  fired,  and  the  garrison  has  hauled  down  its  ensign 
in  token  of  surrender.  I  had  been  a  passable  leech 
had  I  not  rather  cared  to  break  heads  than  to  mend 
them,  whereby  it  seems  to  me  the  two  trades  are 
but  complements  the  one  of  the  other.  In  a  day 
or  two  at  the  furthest  you  will  be  able  to  hold  your 
own  with  any  cut-throat  rascal  who  cries  for  James 
Stuart.  For  that  you  may  trust  Ninian  Macpherson. " 

The  old  soldier  had  a  good  many  sides  to  his 
character;  as  yet  Gervase  had  only  seen  the  praying 
and  the  fighting  sides.  He  was  now  to  see  him  as 
a  loyal  comrade,  ready  to  cheer  him  with  words  of 
comfort;  helpful  as  a  brother,  tender  as  a  woman. 
In  half  an  hour  he  had  looked  to  his  wound,  which 
had  opened  afresh  and  bled  considerably,  had 
prepared  a  meal,  and  had  stretched  a  bed  for  him 
along  the  hearth,  which  though  rough  and  hard, 
was  very  acceptable  in  his  present  condition.  Then 
Bayard  was  stabled  at  the  further  end  of  the  build- 


68  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

ing,  and  the  day  had  already  risen  broad  and  clear 
with  the  singing  of  birds  and  the  whisper  of  the 
soft  spring  wind,  as  Macpherson  wrapped  himself 
in  his  cloak  and  with  his  saddle  under  his  head,  gave 
himself  up  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  A  MAN'S  MEMORY. 

FOR  upwards  of  a  week  Gervase  was  too  ill  to 
travel,  though  he  rapidly  recovered  under  the  care 
that  Macpherson  bestowed  upon  him.  No  woman 
could  have  nursed  him  with  more  tenderness  and 
solicitude.  Every  want  that  he  had  was  anticipated, 
and  during  the  tedium  of  the  day  the  old  soldier 
beguiled  the  time  with  stories  of  the  camp  and 
battle-field.  He  seemed  to  have  no  care  or  thought 
for  his  own  comfort  but  waited  assiduously  on  his 
wounded  comrade  with  a  simple  kindness  that 
touched  Gervase  deeply.  The  darker  side  of  his 
character  seemed  to  have  disappeared  completely ; 
even  his  devotions  he  conducted  in  private,  and  it  was 
only  at  Gervase's  request  that  he  read  from  the  little 
volume  that  he  carried  about  with  him  continually. 
They  were  left  undisturbed  in  the  farm-house, 
though  they  heard  on  two  occasions  the  jingling  of 
bridles,  the  clank  of  weapons,  and  the  tramp  of 
marching  men  upon  the  road,  bound  apparently 
for  Londonderry;  and  upon  one  occasion  they  were 
upon  the  point  of  being  discovered.  Gervase  was 
alone  in  the  house  when  he  heard  the  sound  of 
voices  without,  and  going  to  the  window,  he  saw 


70  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

half  a  dozen  dragoons  drawing  water  from  the  well 
in  the  farm-yard.  They  evidently  thought  the  house 
deserted,  for  they  bestowed  no  attention  upon  it. 
At  that  moment  Macpherson  came  swinging  down 
the  lane  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  was  about  to 
enter  the  yard  when  he  caught  sight  of  the  steel 
head-pieces,  and  stopped  short  Having  filled  their 
bottles,  the  fellows  rejoined  their  comrades  without 
suspecting  the  discovery  they  were  on  the  point  of 
making.  Thereafter  Macpherson  was  more  careful, 
going  out  only  when  the  twilight  came  down,  and 
carefully  avoiding  the  highway. 

The  chickens  in  the  byre  had  gone  the  way  of 
all  flesh,  and  the  cow  in  the  meadow  had  been 
turned  into  wholesome  beef,  from  which  the  old 
soldier  concocted  many  a  savoury  stew.  He  was 
a  rare  hand  at  cooking,  setting  about  the  matter 
with  sober  and  becoming  earnestness,  and  mightily 
proud  of  his  achievements  therein.  All  the  herbs 
of  the  field  lent  themselves  to  his  purpose;  he  had 
studied  their  uses  aforetime,  and  now  he  turned  the 
knowledge  to  account.  He  knew  something,  too, 
of  their  medicinal  qualities,  and  insisted  with  a 
solemn  persistence  on  Gervase  swallowing  many 
nauseous  draughts,  which,  indeed,  the  latter  did  rather 
from  a  feeling  of  good  comradeship  than  from  any 
liking  for  the  dose.  He  greatly  preferred  the 
stories  of  Macpherson's  earlier  days  when  he  carried 
a  halbert  with  Turenne,  or  one  of  the  ballads — of 
which  he  had  quite  a  store — which  he  crooned  in  a 
low  tone  with  a  solemn  shaking  of  the  head.  They 


OF  A  MAN'S  MEMORY.  7  I 

were  all  of  battles,  sieges,  and  warlike  fortunes,  and 
touched  not  at  all  upon  the  lighter  passions.  "  Mary 
Ambree"  was  a  great  favourite  of  his,  and  another 
whose  refrain  ran  thus: — 

"  Then  be  stout  of  heart  when  the  field  is  set,  and  the  smoke 

is  hanging  low, 

And   the    pikeheads    shine   along   the    line    to    meet    the  ad- 
vancing foe." 

But  chiefly  he  preferred  to  sing  from  the  psalms 
in  Francis  Rous's  version,  especially  those  which 
speak  of  battle  and  vengeance,  and  the  rugged 
metre  and  halting  lines  lost  their  homeliness,  and 
were  clothed  with  a  fine  vigour  and  glowed  with 
inspired  fervour  as  he  followed  the  measure  with 
the  motion  of  his  hand.  So  earnest  he  was,  indeed, 
and  so  direct,  with  a  touch  of  childlike  simplicity, 
that  Gervase  was  lost  in  continual  wonder. 

As  a  rule  he  was  reticent  regarding  his  past 
life  and  spoke  of  it  in  only  a  general  way.  On 
one  occasion  he  had  been  more  communicative. 
Gervase  had  become  perfectly  convalescent  and  was 
able  to  move  about  without  being  supported,  the 
fever  having  entirely  disappeared,  and  his  strength 
having  returned  in  some  considerable  degree.  They 
were  sitting  together  discussing  the  various  plans 
by  which  they  might  reach  Londonderry,  and  Mac- 
pherson's  brows  were  drawn  into  a  curious  frown, 
as  always  happened  when  he  was  engaged  in  deep 
thought. 

"Could  we,"  he  said,  "come  haply  on  a  garron, 
the  thing  were  as  good  as  done;  I  doubt  not  we 


72  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

shall  find  one  to  our  hand  as  we  proceed,  and  in 
the  meantime  you  will  ride  Bayard  while  I  tramp 
as  best  I  can.  I  have  done  as  much  before,  and 
with  a  little  strategy,  which  is  just  and  necessary 
we  shall  be  able  to  satisfy  all  civil  inquiries." 

"'Tis  out  of  the  question,"  Gervase  answered. 
"  Turn  and  turn  will  I  take  if  you  will ;  and  it  may 
be  that  this  passport  of  De  Laprade's  will  be  of 
some  service  after  all,  though  I  do  not  think  the 
rogues  we  may  meet  will  care  much  for  aught 
but  a  strong  arm  and  the  sword's  point." 

"  'Tis  a  curious  document, "  said  Macpherson, 
spreading  it  out  before  him  and  laying  his  open 
palm  upon  it.  "  I  am  not  a  great  scholar,  but  I 
think  no  man  could  tell  in  what  language  it  was 
written,  or  what  may  be  its  purport.  Even  his  name 
has  so  fallen  to  vinous  pieces  that  'tis  impossible 
to  pick  up  the  fragments.  But  I  think  he  hath  a 
good  heart,  a  very  good  heart." 

"  That  I  will  answer  for, "  said  Gervase,  "  and  I 
will  answer  for  it  also  that  you  are  rejoiced  that 
you  did  not  harm  him.  I  was  not  brought  up  to 
understand  his  ways,  but  I  know  he  is  brave  as  a 
lion  and  true  as  steel;  and  what  a  handsome  fellow 
he  is!" 

"  Pooh !  wax  and  paint.  I  have  seen  too  many 
pretty  fellows  to  care  for  the  tribe.  But  he  is  as 
you  say,  I  doubt  not,  though  he  be  a  Frenchman— 
for  which  latter  reason  I  do  not  love  him." 

"Still,  it  is  no  reason  why  you  should  hate  him." 

"  I  know  not  that ;  the  narrow  seas  divide  us  for 


OF  A   MAN'S  I\J  EMORY.  73 

some  wise  reason,  and  we  speak  with  different 
tongues  for  a  purpose.  I  have  lived  too  long  with 
Frenchmen  not  to  love  my  own  country  best.  God 
forbid,  however,  that  I  should  hate  any,  though  it 
is  permitted  to  hate  their  works.  He  is,  as  you 
say,  a  gallant  fellow.  I  remember  when  I  was  of 
an  age  with  him,  I  thought  as  little  of  the  end 
whereunto  all  life  tends,  and  wine  and  women  were 
the  gods  I  worshipped.  The  devil  is  a  liberal 
paymaster  but  he  pays  in  his  own  currency;  I 
have  a  bagful  of  his  ducats." 

"  Then    you    carry    them    easily, "    said    Gervase, 
feeling  that  he  was  treading  on  tender  ground. 

"  That  do  I  not.  Alas ;  memory  will  not  die ;  we 
cannot  slay  it  even  with  prayer,  though  we  may 
fall  back  on  that  to  help  us  to  bear  the  pain.  Why 
I  should  talk  thus  to  you  I  know  not,  but  the 
spirit  prompts  me,  and  'tis  ever  safe  to  follow  its 
promptings.  I  shall  open  for  you  one  of  the  pages 
that  I  have  striven  to  tear  out  of  the  book  of  my 
life,  and  failing  in  that,  to  blot  out  with  the  tears 
of  penitence  and  contrition — haply  in  vain.  'Twas 
in  '64,  and  the  April  of  that  year  I  was  in  the 
service  of  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  and  we  were 
quartered  at  Spandau.  Our  company  was  wicked 
enough,  but  I  think  none  could  touch  me  in  all  manner* 
of  iniquity.  We  drank  deep,  quarrelled  and  fought 
at  will,  and  rejoiced  greatly  in  fearing  not  God  nor 
regarding  man.  I  knew  my  work  as  a  soldier,  and 
men  said  I  had  some  skill  in  the  art  of  war.  Howbeit 
1  had  got  some  preferment  which  I  held  lightly 


74  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

enough,  as  I  cared  but  little  whom  I  served  as  long 
as  there  was  wine  in  the  measure  and  women  for 
the  asking.  One  man  I  was  drawn  toward  in  a 
special  manner,  for  we  had  both  known  better  things 
and  had  some  sorrow  together  when  our  cups  wrere 
spilt,  and  the  headache  and  heartache  came  in  the 
morning.  Jack  Killigrew  (for  he  was  an  Englishman, 
and  well  born,  as  I  have  since  learnt)  should  have 
been  a  parson,  but  the  devil  set  him  trailing  a  pike 
and  drinking  deep  as  the  rest  of  us.  After  a  while 
I  noticed  a  change  in  his  ways,  \vhich  change  I 
could  not  well  understand  at  first,  but  soon  I  dis- 
covered. He  drank  no  more,  foreswore  the  dicebox, 
would  not  beat  up  the  town,  and  I  shrewdly  suspected 
took  to  saying  his  prayers  in  secret.  Then  one 
day  he  made  his  confession — I  laughed  loud  enough 
thereat — that  he  was  in  love  with  the  daughter  of 
the  Protestant  parson  outside  the  city  gates.  He 
would  not  rest  satisfied  until  I  had  gone  thither 
with  him,  and  in  an  evil  hour  I  consented.  Beware, 
boy,  of  women ;  avoid  them  like  the  pestilence,  and 
trust  not  the  fairest.  Delilah,  Jezebel,  and  Herodias, 
these  are  but  samples  of  the  smiling,  treacherous, 
beautiful  devils  that  go  up  and  down  on  the  earth 
to  catch  men's  souls  in  a  silken  snare.  Annchen 
was  of  the  same  order  but  carried  her  wickedness 
more  demurely.  Poor  Jack  gave  her  all  his  heart,  and 
the  little  vixen  was  not  content  therewith,  but  needs 
must  have  mine  too.  And  mine  she  had,  ay,  and 
my  soul  too — all,  all." 

Macpherson   rose   and  paced   the  kitchen  with  a 


OF  A  MAN'S  MEMORY.  75 

hasty  stride,  his  long  brown  hands  clasped  before 
him,  and  his  leonine  head  thrown  back.  His  eyes 
were  filled  with  the  strange,  wild  light  Gervase  had 
noticed  once  or  twice  before ;  his  voice  thrilled  with 
suppressed  emotion. 

"  How  she  purred  and  ogled  and  slighted  honest 
Jack,  to  whom  she  had  plighted  her  troth,  and  whom 
she  was  to  marry  in  a  sennight !  God  help  me !  I  was 
wicked  and  mad;  I  forgot  my  friend  and  robbed  him  of 
his  mistress.  Then  the  end  came.  Never,  never  shall 
I  forgot  it.  'Twas  a  moonlight  night  in  the  pleasant 
summer  time ;  I  was  drunken  with  the  passion  of  lust, 
and  Annchen  and  I  had  forgotten  the  hours  as  we 
stood  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  under  the  shadow 
of  the  city's  walls.  Suddenly  a  tall  form  came  between 
us,  and  a  sword  flashed  out  in  the  moonlight.  I 
knew  it  was  Jack  -Killigrew,  and  knew  that  either 
he  or  I  must  die  for  this  deed.  Our  blades  crossed, 
and  while  Jezebel  stood  looking  on,  my  friend  and 
I  (and  truer  comrade  had  no  man)  sought  each  the 
heart's  blood  of  the  other.  May  God  in  His  mercy 
forgive  me,  for  I  shall  never  forgive  myself.  Oh! 
we  fought  a  bitter  fight  under  the  walls  that  June 
night,  and  he  died  hard.  For  I  killed  him;  yes,  I 
killed  him.  Do  not  start  or  turn  away  from  me — 
his  sweetheart  did  not,  Nay,  when  he  was  down 
and  his  life  blood  was  flowing  from  his  breast,  she 
threw  her  arms  about  me,  and  told  me  that  I  was 
a  man,  and  she  loved  a  man.  You  do  not  know 
what  it  is  when  love  turns  to  hate.  I  flung  her  from 
me,  cursing  her,  with  anguish  in  my  heart  that  I 


76  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

had  not  words  to  speak  of.  I  never  saw  her  again, 
but  often  I  see  the  face  of  Jack  Killigrew  lying 
there  turned  up  to  the  moonlight  and  frowning  as  he 
died.  'Twas  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  I  sometimes 
think.  An  ocean  of  tears  will  not  wash  out  the 
deed." 

"'Tis  a  sad  story,"  said  Gervase,  with  emotion, 
"and  better  left  untold.  But  I  think  not  that  all 
women  are  like  Annchen,  whom  I  cannot  understand, 
else  were  life  hardly  worth  living,  and  death  better 
than  life." 

"  That  it  is — that  it  is.  Life  is  a  burden  we  must 
bear  as  best  we  can — a  heavy  load  for  the  back 
of  the  strongest.  You  are  young  and  cannot  yet 
understand  the  matter,  but  for  me  I  would  that  my 
salvation  was  assured,  as  sometimes  I  have  hoped 
it  is,  and  that  I  were  entering  into  my  rest.  But 
youth  cannot  understand  this,  nor  will  I  compel  you 
to  listen  to  me." 

"  Nay, "  answered  Gervase,  "  rather  would  I  be  by 
your  side  fighting  in  the  good  cause,  for  Heaven 
knows  strong  arms  like  yours  are  needed  now, 
if  need  ever  was.  I  cannot  foresee  how  it  will 
end." 

"  Have  no  fear  for  the  end;  Londonderry  may 
fall,  but  Dutch  William  is  stronger  than  a  walled 
city.  I  know  the  Stadtholder  of  old,  and  I  tell  you 
behind  that  cold  look  and  slow  speech  there  is  the 
power  of  many  regiments.  I  have  seen  his  eyes  in 
the  day  of  battle.  He  is  one  of  a  race  that  never 
knows  when  it  is  beaten.  I  think  that  he  will  not 


OF  A  MAN'S   MEMORY.  77 

leave  the  men  in  Londonderry  to  die  like  so  many 
rats.  But,  believe  me,  they  are  the  stuff  whereof 
fighting  men  are  made,  and  will  make  a  gallant 
stand." 

"I  would,"  said  Gervase,  "we  were  among  them 
once  more.  By  this  time,  I  doubt  not,  if  Colonel 
Lundy  be  a  true  and  loyal  man,  Roaring  Meg 
and  her  iron  sisters  have  given  joyful  voice." 

"Bah!  How  goes  your  burghers  ditty?" 

"  '  Scour  me  bright  and  keep  me  clean — 
I'll  carry  a  ball  to  Calais  green.' " 

u  Your  colonel  is  no  true  man,  but  a  hypocrite  and 
a  coward,  and  I  put  no  faith  in  the  long  guns,  though 
they  have  their  uses,  but  in  stout  and  loyal  hearts 
that  will  hold  out  in  trial  and  privation.  The  Irish 
do  not  understand  the  practice  of  artillery;  they 
may  not  batter  down  the  walls  or  breach  them, 
while  there  are  men  there  to  say  'stand  back';  but 
hunger  and  disease  are  enemies  that  few  can  fight 
against:  and  hunger  and  disease  Londonderry  will 
have  "to  face.  'Tis  here  the  Protestant  faith  must 
make  its  last  stand.  Should  the  city  fall  before 
relief  may  come,  then  the  end  is  far  off,  and  the 
Stuart  may  yet  wear  the  crown  of  his  ancestors. 
Relief  ever  comes  slowly — how  slowly,  only  that 
man  knows  who,  like  myself,  with  wasted  shanks 
and  shrunken  jaws,  has  kept  his  place  on  the  ram- 
parts, while  women  and  children  were  dying  indoors 
by  the  score,  and  brave  fellows  were  struck  down 
at  his  side  by  an  enemy  no  man  could  see." 


78  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

rt  But  William  of  Orange  is  a  soldier,  as  you  say, 
and,  being  a  soldier,  will  not  leave  the  city  to  stand 
alone.  Besides,  the  Irish  cannot  fight  a  stubborn 
fight." 

"  There  you  are  wrong  utterly,  and  here  I  speak 
of  what  I  have  seen  and  known.  In  the  army  of 
Louis  is  many  a  gallant  gentleman  of  Irish  birth, 
who  has  displayed  a  courage  and  devotion  in  a 
foreign  country  that  he  might  not  show  in  his  own. 
These  wild  kernes  want  but  the  sergeant's  drill  and 
a  cause  to  fight  for  to  prove  the  stoutest  soldiers 
in  Europe.  But  they  care  not  for  James  Stuart, 
and  I  think  he  has  no  general  who  can  take  their 
measure.  Rosen  is  a  foreigner,  and  Hamilton  a 
man  of  few  parts ;  while  Sarsfield,  of  whom  I  have 
heard  much,  lacks  discretion  and  temperate  wisdom, 
else  might  he  do  greatly.  'Tis  ever  the  general  that 
makes  the  soldier — that  is  the  difference  between  a 
rabble  and  a  regiment.  Tilly  and  Gustavus  and 
Turenne,  all  of  whom  fought  great  battles,  first  put 
heart  into  their  men,  and  then  taught  them  to  fight 
as  if  fighting  were  the  easiest  trade  in  the 
world." 

"But  in  Londonderry,"  said  Gervase,  "we  fight 
for  all  that  men  hold  dear — for  liberty,  religion, 
wife,  child,  and  even  for  life  itself.  If  that  does 
not  give  men  heart  and  inspire  them  with  courage, 
there  is  no  general  in  the  world  can  do  it." 

"  You  are  right,  and  therein  I  rest  my  confidence. 
Religion  is  the  best  cordial  in  the  world  to  tune 
the  coward's  heart.  If  all  goes  well,  behind  yon 


OF  A  MAN'S    MEMORY.  79 

poor  walls  I  look  to  see  as  bold  a  stand  as  ever 
was  made  in  Christendom,  even  should  England 
leave  us  to  tread  our  own  path — which  Heaven 
forfend.  But  'twere  easy  to  succour  the  city.  With 
the  Foyle  running  close  by  the  city  walls,  men 
and  provisions  were  easily  furnished.  Heaven  send 
a  man  with  a  wise  head  on  his  shoulders,  for  Provi- 
dence never  yet  wrought  through 'fools  and  cowards. 
Howsoever,  it  is  for  us  to  do  as  best  we  may,  and 
I  doubt  not,  my  lad,  you  will  do  your  part 
bravely. " 

"  Mine  is  a  small  part  and  easily  played, "  Gervase 
answered,  "but  how  we  are  to  get  into  the  town, 
I  see  not,  even  were  we  so  far  on  our  journey." 

"A  way  will  be  provided,  I  doubt  not,  with  a 
little  strategy.  For  you,  that  fine  cloak  and  hat, 
even  those  riding  boots,  must  be  left  behind,  while 
like  the  stage-player,  you  must  enact  the  rapparee 
and  speak  nought  but  the  Irish  speech,  or  what  will 
pass  for  such,  till  you  are  behind  stone  walls.  For 
myself,  I  think  the  story  I  shall  tell  and  my  know- 
ledge of  the  French  tongue,  will  carry  me  through. 
As  David  played  the  -madman  in  the  city  of  Achish, 
and  as  the  spies  went  into  the  walled  city  of  Jericho 
and  abode  in  the  house  of  the  harlot  Rahab,  so  shall 
we  do  with  the  like  success." 

"  I  hate  all  masquerading, "  Gervase  said,  "  and 
had  rather  take  my  chance  even  as  I  am." 

"Ay,  and  find  a  pikehead  between  your  ribs  for 
your  scruples.  We  have  Scripture  precedent  which 
it  is  ever  safe  to  follow.  In  this  you  shall  not 


80  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

thwart  me.  So  to  bed,  for  at  cockcrow  we  must 
start,  first  having  commended  our  lives  to  Providence, 
and  put  a  new  edge  on  this  sword,  whose  late  owner 
was  a  careless  fellow  and  knew  not  how  to  care 
for  a  good  blade." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  HOW  THE  HEROINE  COMES  UPON  THE  STAGE. 

IT  was  an  hour  after  dawn  when  they  bade  farewell 
to  the  farm-house  and  set  out  upon  their  journey, 
Gervase  mounted  upon  Bayard,  and  Macpherson 
trudging  sturdily  upon  foot.  The  latter  had  made 
his  preparations  for  the  journey  with  abundant  care 
and  forethought.  The  night  before  he  had  baked 
the  little  meal  that  remained,  and  cooked  a  portion 
of  the  meat,  of  which  there  was  still  a  considerable 
quantity  left,  all  of  which  he  stored  carefully  in 
the  saddle-bags.  He  then  turned  his  attention 
to  Gervase,  and  with  very  little  trouble  succeeded 
in  transforming  him  into  a  formidable-looking  des- 
perado, whose  attire  owed  nothing  to  the  art  of 
the  tailor,  but  hung  together  merely  by  fortuitous 
circumstances.  Macpherson  had,  with  studied  humour, 
turned  the  embroidered  coat  inside  out  and  rolled 
it  in  the  mud  that  lay  round  the  well  in  the  farmyard, 
and  then  considerately  removed  one  of  the  skirts 
with  the  edge  of  his  sword.  His  beaver  was  divested 
of  all  form  and  shape;  and  a  rope  of  straw  rolled 
round  the  jackboots,  which  Gervase  had  refused  to 
part  with  on  any  terms,  completed  his  nondescript 
costume.  He  was  now  a  reasonable  representative 


82  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

of  any  of  those  lawless  marauders  who  were  swarming 
upon  the  roads,  or  hanging  upon  the  skirts  of  the 
Irish  army,  in  the  expectation  of  plunder. 

Macpherson  had  refused  to  make  any  change 
in  his  own  costume.  His  role  was  that  of  a  French 
soldier  on  his  way  to  Londonderry — in  such  a 
character  De  Laprade's  passport  would  lend  veri- 
similitude to  his  story,  if  there  were  any  learned 
enough  to  read  it,  about  which  he  had  his  misgiving. 
Gervase  was  to  act  apparently  as  his  guide,  and  in 
such  character  the  old  soldier  did  not  doubt 
but  that  with  ordinary  discretion,  they  might  smuggle 
themselves  though  the  Irish  lines  if  the  investment 
had  been  completed.  If  they  failed,  there  was  some 
chance  that  the  stab  of  a  pike  or  the  end  of  a  rope  would 
put  a  stop  to  their  further  adventures  in  this  world. 

Notwithstanding,  Gervase  was  in  high  spirits  at 
starting.  He  was  now  completely  recovered  from 
his  wound,  and  the  eight  days'  confinement  had  made 
the  anticipation  of  action  and  enterprise  doubly 
welcome.  He  revelled  in  the  fresh  spring  wind 
that  blew  softly  across  the  bog  and  heathy  mountain 
side,  and  could  with  difficulty  restrain  his  horse  to 
keep  pace  with  Macpherson,  who  trudged  at  his 
side  with  a  long  swinging  stride. 

The  hedges  were  green  with  verdure,  and  the 
sunshine  touched  with  a  warmer  colour  the  bog 
myrtle  and  flowering  blackthorn  in  which  the  birds 
were  busy  building.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that 
dangers  were  spread  round  them  on  every  side, 
and  that  the  entire  country  was  up  in  arms 


THE  HEROINE.  83 

in  a  quarrel  that  could  have  no  end,  till  one  of 
the  combatants  went  down  utterly.  Even  Mac- 
pherson,  whose  feelings  were  not  easily  moved, 
was  affected  by  the  brightness  of  the  morning  and 
the  beauty  of  the  scene.  His  emotions  took  their 
own  method  of  expression.  For  a  time  he  had  been 
entirely  silent,  or  replied  only  in  monosyllables,  as 
if  engrossed  in  his  own  secret  meditations,  when 
suddenly  he  began  to  sing  in  loud  resonant  tones: 

"The  Lord  doth  reign  and  clothed  is  He 
With  majesty  most  bright." 

When  he  had  finished  he  threw  up  his  beaver  with 
ao  air  of  jubilant  exultation. 

"  There,  young  sir,  is  a  song  for  you  to  sing  when 
you  are  merry ;  that  eases  the  oppressed  heart,  and 
runs  along  the  nerves  and  sinews,  strengthening 
them  to  acts  of  endurance  and  valour.  Were  I  a 
maker  of  songs  these  were  the  verses  I  should 
write — great  words  wherewith  to  hammer  out  a 
weapon. " 

"  I  cannot  help  thinking, "  said  Gervase,  "  of  the- 
song  poor  Ralston  was  singing  as  we  passed  this 
way,  hardly  a  fortnight  ago.  We  little  thought  then 
that  you  and  I  should  return  alone." 

"They  did  their  duty,"  Macpherson  answered, 
"and  died  in  doing  it;  brave  men  want  no  more. 
I  hope  I  shall  not  flinch  when  my  time  comes,  as 
come  it  will,  and  that  shortly.  I  have  gotten  the 
message  and  it  doth  not  sadden  me." 

Gervase  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  but  he  offered 


84  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

no  explanation  of  his  mysterious  speech  and  again 
relapsed  into  silence. 

They  continued  their  journey  till  noon,  when  they 
halted  to  refresh  themselves,  Macpherson  asserting 
that  if  it  were  not  for  his  great  boots  he  would  as 
readily  walk  as  ride. 

On  resuming  their  march  Gervase  insisted  on 
Macpherson  taking  his  turn  upon  horseback,  which 
the  latter  did  very  unwillingly. 

"  One  horse  to  two  is  out  of  all  reason, "  he  said. 
"You  are  yet  too  soft  for  this  work  and  your  wil- 
fulness  will  bring  its  own  punishment." 

And  Gervase  found  his  words  come  true.  Long 
after  his  strength  had  exhausted  itself,  he  found 
himself  toiling  by  Macpherson's  side,  too  proud  to 
own  his  weakness  and  determined  to  keep  on  till 
he  dropped  from  sheer  fatigue.  Macpherson  watched 
him  for  a  while  in  silence,  with  the  flicker  of  a  grim 
smile  playing  about  his  lips.  Then  he  spoke ; 

"'Tis  ever  wise  to  confess  your  weakness  in  the 
ear  of  a  friend — keep  your  bold  looks  and  your 
wooden  guns  for  the  enemy.  My  dear  lad,  thou 
art  but  pickling  a  rod  for  thine  own  whipping,  and 
that  to  serve  no  good  or  wise  purpose.  Thank 
Heaven,  I  am  stout  of  limb,  and  nought  can  tire 
me;  but  for  you,  your  bones  are  still  soft,  and  I  would 
not  have  you  again  a  burden  on  my  hands.  There 
is  no  need  for  immediate  haste,  for  we  can  accomplish 
to-morrow  all  that  we  might  do  to-day.  Then  mount, 
and  let  us  proceed  leisurely." 

That  day  they  made  good  progress,  and  by  nightfall 


THE  HEROINE.  85 

were  a  considerable  distance  on  their  journey.  By 
the  next  evening  they  hoped  to  reach  the  ford  of 
the  Finn.  But  in  the  meantime  it  was  necessary 
to  pass  the  night  under  the  open  sky,  for  the  country 
was  completely  deserted,  and  nowhere  within  sight 
was  there  trace  of  a  human  dwelling-place—only 
broad  tracts  of  rough  uncultivated  land,  and  rolling 
hills  of  wild  heath  and  tangled  wood.  A  few  houses 
they  had  passed,  but  the  roofless  walls  afforded  neither 
shelter  nor  protection.  Every  dwelling  had  been 
given  up  to  fire  and  destruction,  and  the  inmates 
had  fled  elsewhere  for  refuge.  A  great  curse  seemed 
to  have  fallen  on  the  devoted  land ;  all  was  silence 
and  desolation. 

That  night  they  passed  under  a  thorn  hedge, 
which  proved,  as  Gervase  found,  a  cold  and  uncom- 
fortable lodging,  and  afforded  little  protection  from 
the  night  dews  and  the  wind  that  blew  across  the 
open  with  a  shrewd  and  penetrating  keenness.  To 
Macpherson  it  mattered  not  at  all,  for,  rolled  in  his 
cloak,  he  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just,  and  did  not 
awake  till  the  morning  was  some  way  up.  But 
Gervase  could  not  sleep.  Above  his  head  the  jewels 
in  the  sword-belt  of  Orion  flashed  with  a  bright  and 
still  a  brighter  lustre,  and  the  wind  seemed  to  call 
with  almost  a  human  articulateness  from  the  distant 
hills.  The  lonely  night  with  its  mystery  and  silence, 
was  instinct  with  life.  In  such  a  presence  his  own 
fate  seemed  to  dwindle  into  infinitely  little  importance, 
and  all  human  endeavour  appeared  of  no  greater  mo- 
ment than  that  of  the  ant  or  the  mole  in  the  ditch  hard 


86  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

by.  Gervase  was  not  given  to  talking  sermons  nor 
to  much  introspection,  but  he  felt  these  things  in  his 
own  way.  He  was  glad  when  he  saw  the  morning 
coming  up;  and  when  he  arose  from  his  damp  uncom- 
fortable couch,  felt  little  inclination  for  a  day's  hard 
work.  But  when  he  had  bathed  his  face  and  hands  in 
the  neighbouring  rivulet,  and  partaken  of  the  breakfast 
Macpherson  insisted  on  their  making  before  they 
started,  life  assumed  a  somewhat  brighter  outlook, 
and  his  flagging  spirits  revived  a  little. 

Macpherson's  spirits  were  keen  and  high.  The 
prospect  of  danger  ever  acted  upon  him  like  wine, 
and  Gervase  saw  his  eyes  kindle,  now  and  again,  under 
his  rugged  brows,  with  that  sudden  flashing  light 
he  had  seen  in  them  before,  in  the  time  of  peril. 
He  had  loaded  his  pistol  afresh  and  carefully  looked 
to  its  priming. 

"  We  may  fall  in  with  the  enemy  now  at  any 
moment,"  he  said,  "and  it  behoves  us  to  be  ready 
either  for  peace  or  war.  Peace  I  should  prefer,  but 
if,  haply,  the  rogues  number  not  more  than  half  a 
dozen,  a  skirmish  were  not  out  of  place  to  afford 
us  a  little  amusement.  A  young  soldier  requires 
practice,  and  cannot  have  his  hand  in  too  often." 

"Faith!"  said  Gervase  laughing,  "righting  would 
seem  to  be  meat  and  drink  to  you,  but  I  have  not 
yet  acquired  such  relish  for  the  fare  that  I  cannot 
do  without  it.  I  fear  you  are  like  to  prove  a  trouble- 
some cpmpanion  for  all  your  boasted  diplomacy." 

"  Tut,  man,  do  not  fear.  We  are  not  an  army, 
nor  even  a  troop,  and  may  not  carry  things  as  we 


THE   HEROINE.  87 

would.  But  a  little  fighting  is  a  wonderful  medicine, 
and  clears  the  humours  better  than  any  elixir.  I 
mean  but  that  when  we  can  we  may  as  well  be 
honest,  and  keep  our  stratagems  for  such  times  as 
we  shall  be  hard  pushed,  an'!  must  employ  them,  will 
we,  nill  we.  D'ye  see?" 

"  Oh !  'tis  not  easy  to  mistake  your  meaning.  You 
give  it  just  emphasis  with  that  long  sword  and  pistol 
handle.  But  I  had  rather  you  were  less  inclined  to 
violence;  there  were  more  chance  of  our  reaching 
Londonderry  in  safety." 

"  All  in  good  time,  we  shall  see.  By  evening1 
we  shall  arrive  at  the  ford,  which  we  had  better 
cross  in  the  dark.  One  pair  of  legs  will  then  be 
worth  two  pairs  of  hands,  even  with  toys  like  these 
in  them;"  and  he  touched  the  sword  he  carried 
with  a  smile.  Then  after  a  pause  he  went  on, 
"  Who  knows  what  may  have  befallen  since  we  left 
the  city  last?  There  are  brave  hearts  within  the 
walls,  but  there  are  traitors  and  cowards  too;  and 
the  latter  have  sometimes  the  best  of  it  in  this  world. 
Still,  I  think  not,  and  will  wager  that  the  Protestant 
cause  goes  bravely  on.  They  are  a  stiff-necked  race, 
these  men  of  Ulster;  bend  they  cannot  and  break 
they  will  not.  I  have  watched  them  narrowly;  if 
they  did  break  at  Dromore  it  was  because  they 
were  fearful  of  the  treachery  of  their  friends,  not  of 
the  violence  of  their  enemies.  But  I  know  not  what 
Colonel  Lundy  means — if  he  be  not  a  traitor  and  a 
knave  at  heart,  I  know  not  what  he  is." 

For  the  greater  part  of  the  day  they  continued 


88  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

their  journey  without  adventure.  Several  small 
parties  of  the  enemy  they  met  with,  but  were 
subjected  to  no  very  rigorous  cross-examination. 
Their  replies  proved  perfectly  satisfactory.  The 
story  Macpherson  told  was  eminently  plausible,  and 
about  Gervase  they  did  not  trouble  themselves. 
There  were  many  French  gentlemen  in  the  Irish 
army,  and  it  was  not  a  strange  thing  to  find  one 
on  his  way  to  head-quarters  accompanied  by  a 
guide.  One  troop  of  dragoons  had,  indeed,  stopped 
them  and  put  several  questions  to  Gervase,  but  he 
managed,  with  the  voluble  assistance  of  Macpherson, 
to  disarm  their  suspicions.  Fortunately  his  ques- 
tioners spoke  English  only,  and  the  fragments  of  the 
Irish  tongue  that  Gervase  had  acquired,  stood  him 
in  good  stead. 

It  was  now  two  hours  to  sundown,  and  they 
anticipated  that  another  hour's  travel  would  bring 
them  to  the  ford.  They  were  toiling  uphill,  Gervase 
a  little  in  advance  mounted  upon  Bayard,  and 
Macpherson  stepping  out  sturdily  in  the  rear.  On 
the  top  of  the  hill  Gervase  halted,  reined  the  horse 
back  hastily  within  shelter  of  a  clump  of  hazel, 
and  called  out  to  Macpherson,  who  hurried  up  and 
joined  him  where  he  stood.  Together  they  looked 
down  the  valley. 

"  What  is  the  matter  yonder  ?"  Macpherson 
asked,  instinctively  placing  his  hand  on  his  pistol- 
butt. 

"  I  know  not, n  said  Gervase,  "  but  I  think  it  is 
robbery  and  murder." 


THE  HEROINE.  89 

fc  Then,  my  young  friend, "  said  the  other,  laying 
his  hand  on  the  horse's  bridle,  "  it  is  not  our  business, 
and  we  have  cares  enough  of  our  own  without 
taking  on  us  the  troubles  of  others.  But  how  is 
the  day  going?" 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  steep  road  lay  a 
post-chaise  overturned:  one  of  the  horses  lay  dead 
in  the  ditch,  the  other  was  flying  with  broken  traces 
over  a  neighbouring  field.  A  man  with  his  back 
to  the  coach  and  a  sword  in  his  hand,  was  valiantly 
striving  to  keep  at  bay  half-a-dozen  wild-looking 
fellows  armed  with  half-pikes.  Two  bodies  lay  at 
his  feet,  another  a  little  distance  away,  and  outside 
the  ring  of  assailants  that  surrounded  the  solitary 
swordsman,  a  young  woman  was  kneeling  in  an 
agony  of  distress  over  the  prostrate  body  of  a  man. 
The  man  with  the  sword  fought  with  skill  and 
strength,  but  the  odds  were  terribly  against  him. 
In  the  end  he  must  succumb. 

"  By  the  living  God,  it  is  a  woman, "  said  Gervase, 
grappling  blindly  and  eagerly  at  the  holster. 

"Softly,  what  would  you — what  have  we  to  do 
with  women?" 

"  Follow  me,  follow  me,  for  God's  sake,  as 
speedily  as  you  can,"  Gervase  cried,  dashing  his 
unarmed  heels  into  the  horse's  flank,  and  giving  him 
free  head. 

Away  went  the  brave  steed  thundering  down  the 
steep  road,  as  Gervase  gave  a  great  shout  and 
flourished  the  long  pistol  above  his  head.  Mac- 
pherson  watched  his  breakneck  career  down  the 


90  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

hill  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  proceeded  to 
follow  him  with  the  best  speed  that  he  could 
make. 

"  I  would  not  lose  the  youth  or  my  good  horse 
for  all  the  women  in  Christendom.  This  is  but 
the  beginning  of  trouble,  and  it  begins  with  a  woman." 

Hearing  the  shout,  the  swordsman  had  turned  his 
head  for  a  moment,  and  at  that  instant  one  of  his 
assailants  sprang  within  his  guard,  and  plunged  his 
skene  deep  into  his  breast.  With  one  last  convul- 
sive effort  the  wounded  man  struck  his  opponent 
fair  in  the  face  with  the  sword  hilt,  and  they  both 
dropped  on  the  road  together.  Seeing  Gervase 
approaching,  the  ruffians  appeared  to  doubt  whether 
they  should  take  to  flight  or  await  his  attack,  but 
while  they  were  making  up  their  minds,  Gervase 
was  on  the  top  of  them. 

Reserving  his  fire  until  he  was  among  them,  he 
discharged  his  pistol  pointblank  at  the  head  of  one 
fellow  with  deadly  effect,  and  riding  down  another, 
wrenched  the  half-pike  from  his  hand.  Then  they 
were  utterly  panic-stricken  and  fled  right  and  left, 
leaving  Gervase  master  of  the  situation. 

Meanwhile  the  young  lady  had  risen  to  her  feet, 
and  was  standing  looking  in  wonder  at  her  unex- 
pected deliverer,  who  had  reined  up  his  horse,  and 
was  watching  the  fugutives  as  if  in  doubt  whether 
to  follow  them  or  to  allow  them  to  depart  unpursued. 
Then  Gervase  turned  towards  her  and  raising  his 
hat,  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

She  was  only  a  girl  in  years,  but  of  a  sweet  and 


THE  HEROINE.  91 

stately  figure  and  striking  beauty.  Her  abundant 
hair  loosed  from  its  confinement,  streamed  in  disorder 
over  her  shapely  shoulders,  and  fell  in  thick  folds 
to  her  waist.  Her  lips  were  trembling  and  her 
cheeks  were  blanched  and  colourless,  but  her  great, 
dark  eyes  looked  with  a  steady  and  courageous 
glance.  There  was  no  sign  of  fear  in  the  sweet 
face — only  a  high,  resolute  courage.  Her  scarf  had 
been  torn  from  her  shoulders,  and  showed  too  much 
of  her  white  and  heaving  bosom.  Instinctively  she 
put  up  her  hand  to  cover  it. 

"I  fear,"  said  Gervase,  hat  in  hand,  "that  I  have 
come  too  late  to  save  this  gallant  fellow  from  these 
wretched  cowards.  But  I  am  glad  that  I  was  still 
in  time  to  render  you  some  service.  Haply,"  he 
continued,  dismounting  from  his  horse,  "  the  wound 
may  not  be  fatal,  and  something  may  still  be 
done." 

The  girl  looked  in  great  surprise  at  the  strange 
figure  before  her,  and  was  evidently  lost  in  wonder 
at  hearing  her  wild-looking  and  ragged  champion 
deliver  himself  in  such  excellent  English,  and  with 
such  a  well-bred  air.  To  outward  seeming  he  was 
as  much  a  cateran  as  any  of  the  scoundrels  he  had 
lately  put  to  flight. 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  she  said  simply.  "  It  may  be 
poor  Martin  is  still  living." 

She  knelt  down  by  the  side  of  the  fallen  man 
and  raised  his  head  upon  her  knees.  But  the  skene, 
driven  with  great  force,  had  passed  beneath  the 
breast-bone  and  had  penetrated  the  heart — the  man 


Q2  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

was  dead.  A  glance  was  sufficient  to  show  that 
life  was  extinct.  She  allowed  the  head  to  remain 
resting  upon  her  lap  for  some  minutes,  gazing  at 
the  rugged  face  of  the  dead  man  in  silence,  and 
then  she  looked  up,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  I 
have  known  him  all  my  life, "  she  said,  "  and  never 
was  there  a  braver  or  a  kinder  heart.  Years  ago 
he  saved  my  father's  life,  and  now  he  has  died  to 
save  mine." 

Gervase  had  knelt  down  beside  her,  and  had  been 
endeavouring  to  catch  some  feeble  sign  of  move- 
ment in  the  pulse.  "  Yes,  he  is  dead, "  he  said, 
"  and  we  can  do  nothing  for  him,  but  it  may  be 
the  other  needs  our  help." 

"  My  grandfather  has  not  been  injured, "  she  said. 
"  He  swooned  when  they  came  round  the  coach,  and 
though  they  used  him  roughly,  I  do  not  think  he 
hath  suffered  from  aught  but  fright.  Still,  he  is  an 
old  man  and  very  frail,  and  it  may  be- 
But  the  old  man  had  raised  himself  on  his  elbow, 
and  was  looking  round  him  with  an  expression  of 
bewilderment,  as  though  not  yet  able  to  realize  what 
had  happened.  Then  suddenly  his  eye  fell  upon 
the  chaise  lying  overturned,  and  with  a  nimbleness 
that  one  could  not  have  expected,  he  leapt  to  his 
feet,  and  walked  with  rapid  strides  to  the  vehicle. 

"Dorothy,"  he  shouted,  "Dorothy,  help  me,  girl! 
The  rogues  have  stolen  my  treasure.  Good  God! 

I  am  a  beggar — a  beggar.  Why  the did  they  not 

take  my  life?  The  gold  that  I  have  watched  grow- 
ing and  growing,  and  the  precious  stones  that  I 


THE   HEROINE.  93 

would  not  have  parted  with  for  a  kingdom !  Oh  God ! 
I  am  a  beggar,  and  will  die  on  the  road-side 
after  all." 

The  old  man  seemed  entirely  beside  himself  with 
grief  and  rage,  and  began  to  pour  forth  such  a 
string  of  oaths,  wild  and  incoherent,  that  Gervase 
felt  deeply  for  the  girl  \vho  was  in  vain  endeavour- 
ing to  calm  him. 

"  I  think,  grandfather, "  she  said,  "  it  is  still 
safe,  but  I  had  thought  the  matter  was  of  little 
worth—" 

"  Worth !  Great  Heaven !  there  were  ten  thousand 
pounds—  here  he  stopped  short  and  looked  at 
Gervase,  whose  appearance  did  not  tend  to  re- 
assure him. 

"I  am  an  old  man,  sir,"  he  went  on  piteously, 
"  and  I  know  not  what  I  say.  These  are  but  wild 
words  of  mine,  and,  I  prithee,  forget  them.  They 
meant  nothing — nothing,  and  I  ask  you  to  let  them 
pass.  Would  it  trouble  you  too  much  to  assist 
my  servant? — Where  the  devil  is  Martin,  the  rascal?" 

"  Your  servant,  sir,  is  dead, "  said  Gervase,  losing 
his  temper  somewhat,  "  and  this  young  lady  and 
yourself  are  left  alone,  in  great  straits  and  peril. 
Therefore  I  would  ask  you  to  dismiss  all  thoughts 
of  the  trash  from  your  mind,  and  let  me  know  what 
you  purpose  doing." 

But  the  old  man  had  already  clambered  into  the 
coach,  and  in  a  few  seconds  reappeared  with  a 
heavy,  brass-bound  box  in  his  arms,  which  he 
clutched  with  every  expression  of  delight. 


94  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

At  this  moment  Macpherson,  who  seeing  Gervase 
completely  victorious,  had  been  strolling  down  the 
hill  in  a  leisurely  fashion,  had  come  up. 

"  What  is  this  Punchinello?"  he  said  roughly,  but  as 
he  saw  the  old  man  cower  terrorstricken,  he  contin- 
ued in  a  more  kindly  tone,  "Fear  hath  turned  his 
brain,  and,  haply,  he  takes  me  for  one  of  those  maraud- 
ing rascals,  of  whom,  I  doubt  not,  we  have  not  yet 
seen  the  last.  And  now,  madam,"  he  said,  turning  to 
the  girl,  "  as  you  see,  this  gentleman  and  I  are  your 
friends  and  are  bound  to  serve  you,  though  I  tell 
you  plainly,  I  would  it  had  fallen  to  other  hands. 
We  were  even  trying  to  bring  ourselves  to  some 
place  of  safety,  which  is  like  to  prove  a  matter 
of  some  difficulty." 

"  Then,  sir, "  and  here  the  girl's  eyes  flashed 
proudly,  "  I  pray  you  do  not  trouble  yourself  further, 
or  imperil  your  safety  on  our  account.  For  the 
gallant  service  this — this  gentleman  hath  rendered 
me  and  my  grandfather,  I  give  him  our  best  thanks, 
poor  as  they  are,  but  we  would  not  be  a  burden 
to  you,  and  therefore  think  not  of  us,  but  go  your  way." 

"My  friend,"  said  Gervase,  "speaks  not  as  he 
means,  nor  will  I  let  him  do  discredit  to  his  own 
kind  heart.  The  sword  which  this  poor  fellow  drew 
to  defend  you,  will  still  be  used  for  that  end  in  my 
hands,  and  if  I  cannot  use  it  as  well  it  will  be  the 
power  and  not  the  will  fails  me." 

Macpherson  turned  away,  muttering  under  his 
breath,  "  Humph !  the  young  fool  is  caught  already. 
I  see  that  she  hath  him  in  the  snare." 


THE  HEROINE.  95 

"  We  were  on  the  road  to  Londonderry,  and 
though  my  friend  is  somewhat  rough  and  discour- 
teous withal,  I  doubt  not  he  will  do  his  best  to  help 
you  thither,  if  such  be,  as  I  imagine,  your  desire." 

"  We  were  on  the  way  to  the  city  when  we  were 
attacked  as  you  saw.  My  grandfather,  who  is 
Colonel  Carew  of  Castleton,  refused  to  believe  that 
there  was  any  danger  in  remaining  at  home;  but 
last  night,  hearing  that  the  enemy  was  burning  and 
plundering  round  us,  he  set  off  at  midnight,  and  we 
have  been  travelling  ever  since;  and  now  I  think 
the  terror  has  turned  his  brain,  for  I  never  saw  him 
thus  before.  What  we  shall  do  I  know  not,  but  if 
we  can  trust  you " 

"Appearances  are  against  me,  I  admit,"  said 
Gervase,  with  a  smile,  and  feeling,  with  perhaps 
excusable  vanity,  that  he  would  have  preferred  to 
cut  a  gallanter  figure.  "  Still,  I  hope  that  you  will 
believe  me  when  I  say  that  I  am  a  gentleman,  and 
most  desirous  of  serving  you.  I  have  carried  the 
colours  in  Mountjoy's  regiment  and " 

"And  I  think  that  I  can  trust  you,"  she  said, 
holding  out  her  hand,  with  a  frank  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  a  sweet,  sad  smile  upon  her  lips. 

"  In  your  service  wholly,"  said  Gervase,  bending 
low  over  her  hand,  which  he  pressed  with  unneces- 
sary fervour.  "  My  friend  is  an  old  soldier  who  has 
a  grudge  against  your  sex  for  some  reason  known 
to  himself,  but  I  have  cause  to  know  that  a  more 
loyal  and  faithful  friend  there  never  'was.  He  will 
scoff  and  rail,  I  doubt  not,  but  believe  me,  he  will 


96  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

serve  you  with  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  his  heart. 
He  hath  great  experience  in  matters  of  danger,  and 
I  doubt  not  some  scheme  may  be  devised  whereby 
we  may  convey  you  to  Londonderry  in  safety." 

"I  care  not  for  myself,"  she  answered;  "it  is 
for  my  grandfather  that  I  fear.  He  seems  to  have 
lost  his  reason." 

The  old  man  had  carried  the  box  to  a  distance, 
and  had  sat  down  before  it,  examining  the  contents 
eagerly,  and  talking  to  himself  in  a  loud  excited 
tone.  From  time  to  time  he  glanced  round  furtively 
to  see  if  he  was  observed,  and  then  went  on  with 
his  examination.  "Safe!  safe!"  he  muttered.  "That 
was  the  Spaniard's  gold,  and  you  wear  bravely, 
my  beautiful  doubloons.  How  you  shine,  my  beauties, 
and  I  thought  you  were  gone  for  ever!  It  would 
have  broken  my  old  heart — I  could  not  have  lived 

without  you.  And  my  stones  of  price What 

want  you,  sir?  "  he  said,  closing  the  box,  and  turning 
round  savagely  as  Macpherson  approached. 

"  I  know  not  what  devil's  trinkets  you  have 
enclosed  there, "  said  the  soldier.  "  but  I  would  have 
you  act  like  a  reasonable  man,  and  tell  me  what 
you  purpose  doing.  Yonder  lady  is  young  and 
unprotected,  and  we  would  not  willingly  leave  you, 
but  this  is  no  time  to  give  heed  to  such  trash  as 
you  have  shut  up  there,  when  your  life  is  in  danger 
every  moment." 

"  My  life  is  here, "  answered  the  old  man,  "  and 
I  pray  you,  for  God's  sake,  leave  me  in  peace.  I 
know  you  not." 


THE   HEROINE.  g? 

Macpherson  turned  on  his  heel  and  rejoined  Ger- 
vase  and  the  girl.  "His  mind  is  gone  utterly,"  he 
said,  "  and  it  is  useless  endeavouring  to  reason 
with  him.  My  young  friend,  madam,  has,  I  doubt 
not,  told  you  how  matters  stand  with  us.  If  you 
will,  we  shall  endeavour  to  carry  you  with  us,  and 
trust  to  the  fortunes  of  war  to  bring  you  safely 
through.  Another  hour  should  bring  us  to  the  ford. 
I  trust  that  you  are  able  to  ride,  for  the  chaise  is 
rendered  useless,  and  were  it  not,  we  have  not 
horses  to  draw  it.  In  the  meantime  I  had  better 
secure  your  nag." 

Macpherson  went  after  the  stray  horse  which  was 
now  quietly  grazing  at  some  distance,  and  shortly 
returned  with  it.  "And  now,"  he  said,  "I  regret 
that  we  cannot  give  this  brave  fellow  Christian 
burial,  but  if  you,  madam,  will  look  after  your 
grandfather,  my  young  friend  and  I  will  even  place 
him  where  he  may  sleep  his  last  sleep  decently, 
like  a  brave  and  honest  man  as  I  doubt  not  he  was. " 

The  girl  went  over  to  the  dead  man,  and  kneeling 
down  kissed  his  forehead,  and  then  rising  without 
a  word,  but  with  a  great  sob  which  she  bravely 
strove  to  repress,  went  over  to  her  grandfather. 
Macpherson  and  Gervase  carried  the  body  into  the 
field,  and  placing  it  in  the  ditch,  cut  a  quantity 
of  bramble  with  which  they  reverently  covered  it 

"  Sorry  I  am  that  we  cannot  dig  a  grave,  "  said 
Macpherson,  "but  it  may  be  that  is  a  pagan  thought. 
He  hath  died  like  a  man,  and  at  the  last  day  he 
will  rise,  knowing  that  he  fell  in  the  path  of  duty. 

7 


98  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

What  does  it  matter  for  this  poor  carcase  what 
becomes  of  it?  'Tis  for  the  living,  not  for  the 
dead,  that  we  should  mourn.  And  now  look  you, 
Gervase  Orme,  I  love  you  like  a  son,  and  would 
not  willingly  see  you  come  to  evil.  Yonder  damsel 
is  goodly  to  look  upon  and  hath  the  tender  ways 
of  a  woman.  I  can  see  that  you  are  already  drawn 
towards  her,  and  are  ready  even  now  to  let  her 
lead  you  as  she  will.  Be  warned  by  me,  and  shun 
the  snare  while  you  are  still  heart-whole  and  your 
wings  are  still  unplucked.  Nay,  you  are  angry  at 
the  wise  counsel  of  a  friend ;  I  speak  only  for 
your  good,  and  will  say  no  more.  But  I  would 
that  we  had  not  met  them,  and  would  yet— 

"  Surely, "  said  Gervase,  with  warmth,  *  you 
would  not  leave  this  defenceless  girl  and  the  feeble 
old  man,  even  if  you  might  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  said  not  that.  In  some  sort  they  have 
been  committed  to  our  care,  but  it  means  for  both 
of  us,  or  I  am  much  mistaken,  either  the  length  of 
a  rope  or  the  inside  of  a  prison.  I  am  older  than 
you,  my  young  friend,  and  think  there  is  no  woman 
worth  the  sacrifice  either  of  my  life  or  of  my  liberty. 
Now,  go  your  way,  and  see  her  mounted  upon 
Bayard,  while  I  look  after  the  old  man,  for  I  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  wench.  The  rogues 
you  dispersed  will  be  looking  for  us  presently. 
Before  we  meet  them  I  should  prefer  being  within 
sight  of  the  Royal  troops.  " 

The  old  world  laughs  at  Love,  as  laugh  it  may. 
And  yet  from  generation  to  generation  unheeding 


THE  HEROINE.  99 

youth  takes  up  the  foolish  old  song,  and  dances  to 
the  ancient  measure  with  a  light  and  joyful  heart. 
What  though  the  roses  wither  and  the  garlands 
fade  ?  These  are  fresh,  and  the  morning  dew  is  on 
them.  What  though  the  lips  grow  dumb,  and  the 
sound  of  the  flute  and  the  song  is  hushed  and  stilled? 
In  the  fresh  and  roseate  morning  as  yet  there  are 
no  shadows  and  no  regrets ;  the  heart  is  full  of  hope 
and  joy.  And  so  it  has  been  since  the  lips  of  our 
first  parents  met  in  newly-awakened  bliss,  in  the 
time  when  the  world  was  young,  and  pain  and 
satiety  were  unknown  to  mortals. 

As  yet  Gervase  was  not  in  love,  but  his  heart 
throbbed  with  an  indefinable  emotion  as  Dorothy 
Carew  rested  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  placing 
her  dainty  foot  in  his  hand,  sprang  upon  the  great 
military  saddle  and  thanked  him  with  a  smile. 

"  This  is  a  dear  old  horse,  "  she  said,  patting  the 
charger's  neck,  and  gathering  up  the  reins  in  her 
hand.  "  We  begin  early  to  trouble  you,  and  shall 
never  be  able  to  repay  you  and  your  friend. " 

*  It  were  repayment  enough, "  said  Gervase,  "  to 
find  you  safe  within  the  walls  of  Londonderry,  and 
I  am  pleased  to  think  that  I  have  been  able  to  serve 
you  a  little.  " 

"  That  is  the  speech  of  a  gentleman,  after  all, " 
she  said  smiling.  "  I  little  thought  you  were  a  friend 
as  you  came  shouting  down  the  road ;  indeed,  you 
would  make  a  great  hit  at  Drury  Lane  or  Sadler's 
Wells;  and  what  a  figure  you  would  cut  at  Saint 
James's!" 


100  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  I  confess  I  do  not  make  a  very  gallant  show, " 
said  Gervase,  "but  these  rags  will  serve  their  turn, 
and  help  us  both,  I  trust,  to  better  fortune.  " 

The  old  man  had  been  helped  upon  the  second 
horse,  and,  with  his  box  placed  before  him,  followed 
them  along  the  rough  and  broken  road.  He  seemed 
wholly  oblivious  to  what  was  taking  place,  and  so 
long  as  his  treasure  Was  safe,  seemed  perfectly 
content  to  act  as  he  was  bidden.  Macpherson,  with 
his  head  bent,  walked  by  the  horse's  bridle  and 
listened  with  a  frown  upon  his  face  to  the  conver- 
sation of  Gervase  and  the  girl.  He  had  cast  no 
glance  in  her  direction,  but  after  he  had  delivered 
his  mind  to  Gervase,  had  busied  himself  about  the 
old  man  with  a  rough  kindliness. 

"  Thus  we  trudge  on,  "  he  said,  as  if  talking  to 
himself,  "as  the  world  is  doing  everywhere.  The 
old  fool,  at  the  end  of  his  journey,  thinking  only  of 
the  pieces  of  gold  for  which  he  will  have  his  throat 
cut  in  all  likelihood  before  sunset.  Heaven  and 
Eternity  are  shut  up  in  his  box.  The  young  fool, 
thinking  only  of  the  brown  eyes  and  tender  speeches 
of  the  wench,  and  willing  to  dare  all  things  for  her 
foolish  sake,  while  the  wench  herself,  woman  that 
she  is,  baits  her  trap  with  honied  words  and  draws 
the  manhood  out  of  him  with  the  glance  of  her 
eye.  And  I — I  must  go  where  the  Providence  of 
God  directs  my  steps,  though  avarice  and  vanity 
and  the  folly  of  youth  be  my  companions  and  my 
guide.  'Tis  a  strange  world  and  full  of  shadows, 
and  these  are  of  them,  " 


CHAPTER  VIL 

OF  THE  RESCUE  FROM  GREAT  PERIL. 

COLONEL  CAREW  was  the  third  in  descent  from 
the  original  planter  who  by  right  of  conquest  and 
the  grace  of  James  the  First,  had  settled  upon  the 
broad  lands  of  Castleton,  and  having  swept  the 
ancient  possessors  from  the  soil,  had  planted  there 
a  hardy  race  of  colonists,  and  built  himself  a  great 
house,  half  mansion,  half  fortress.  The  first  Jasper 
Carew  had  looked  upon  himself  as  the  instrument 
in  the  hands  of  Providence  to  civilize  the  land 
and  found  a  family.  He  had  ruled  with  despotic 
severity,  and  when  he  was  laid  in  the  family  vault 
in  the  new  church  that  he  had  built,  left  a  name  of 
undying  hatred  to  the  native  Irish.  The  second 
Jasper  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  his  father;  he 
built  and  planted,  and  like  a  strong  man  armed, 
ruled  his  own  demesne  and  showed  neither  mercy 
nor  tolerance  toward  the  ancient  race.  They  were 
a  God-fearing  stock  and  showed  no  compassion  nor 
kindly  pity.  Virtues  they  had,  but  only  toward  their 
friends,  and  never  forgot  that  they  had  won  by  the 
sword's  right  and  must  continue  to  hold  by  its  power. 
The  present  Colonel  Carew  had  been  wild  in  his 
youth,  and  had  left  the  home  of  his  fathers  in 


102  THE   CRIMSOX   SIGN. 

disgrace.  For  a  time  he  had  entirely  disappeared; 
there  were  vague  rumours  that  he  had  prospered  in 
the  Virginias  and  had  made  a  fortune  there.  How- 
ever that  might  be,  he  had  returned  home  on  the 
death  of  his  father,  bringing  with  him  an  only  son, 
and  lived  a  moody,  retired  life  in  the  great  house, 
attended  only  by  a  servant  who  had  shared  his 
adventures  abroad.  His  son  had  early  obtained  a 
commission,  and  served  with  distinction  on  the 
Continent  He  had  married  against  the  wish  of  his 
father,  a  young  lady  of  great  beauty  and  slender 
fortune,  the  daughter  of  a  Huguenot  refugee,  and 
when  he  fell  at  Senef  some  years  afterwards, 
left  an  orphan  son  and  daughter  to  the  care  of  his 
father,  who  received  the  unwelcome  legacy  with 
little  outward  show  of  favour  or  affection.  Colonel 
Carew  had  brought  his  grandson  home,  but  permitted 
the  girl  to  remain  under  the  care  of  her  relatives 
in  London.  Here  Dorothy  had  remained  until  she 
was  sixteen,  when  the  death  of  her  aunt  compelled 
her  to  seek  a  home  with  her  grandfather,  who  was 
unable  to  make  any  other  provision  for  her,  however 
anxiously  he  desired  to  do  so.  At  Castleton,  Dorothy 
Carew  had  spent  two  years  of  her  life — not  very 
happy  or  pleasant  years,  but  her  sweet  and  joyous 
spirit  had  broken  down  in  some  slight  degree  the 
barrier  that  her  grandfather  had  raised  between  him- 
self and  all  the  world. 

He  was  growing  old  and  frail,  and  his  mind  seemed 
to  have  gone  wholly  back  to  the  early  years  which 
he  had  spent  in  wild  adventure  and  lawless  wander- 


OF  THE  RESCUE  FROM   GREAT  PERIL.         103 

ings.  The  care  of  his  estate  he  had  left  to  his 
grandson,  who  paid  little  heed  to  the  old  man,  but 
went  his  way  with  the  headstrong  and  reckless 
selfishness  that  was  the  characteristic  of  his  race. 
The  presence  of  his  grand-daughter  seemed  to  give 
him  pleasure,  but  companionship  between  them  there 
was  none.  He  accepted  her  attentions,  not,  indeed, 
with  an  ill  grace,  but  without  any  apparent  sign  of 
affection,  though  at  times,  as  he  sat  watching  her 
moving  about  his  room,  her  figure  appeared  to  arouse 
him  from  his  fit  of  abstraction,  and  to  awaken  a 
chord  of  memory  that  was  not  wholly  painful. 

So  she  passed  these  two  years  at  Castleton — 
dull  enough  for  a  girl  of  spirit  and  used  to  the 
excitement  and  life  of  a  great  city;  and  when  the 
news  of  a  great  Catholic  rising  and  massacre  arrived, 
it  found  her  alone  and  unprotected,  with  a  number 
of  panic-stricken  domestics  and  a  helpless  old  man 
looking  to  her  for  assistance  and  advice.  Her  brother 
had  gone  to  Londonderry  on  business  of  his  own, 
and  there  was  no  one  near  her  on  whom  she  could  rely. 
The  servants  had  remained  at  their  posts  for  some  time, 
but  as  the  excitement  deepened,  and  the  tenantry 
fled  to  Enniskillen  or  to  Londonderry  for  safety  and 
shelter,  they  refused  to  remain  longer,  and  while 
imploring  her  to  join  them  in  their  flight,  one  morn- 
ing they  departed  in  a  body.  She  herself  would 
willingly  have  accompanied  them,  but  her  grandfather 
refused  to  move.  It  was,  he  said,  mere  moonshine. 
It  was  only  when  the  Irish  army  had  marched 
northward,  and  there  came  the  frequent  and  alarm- 


104  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

ing  reports  of  robbery  and  murder,  that  he  was  seized 
with  an  uncontrollable  dread,  and  insisted  on  flee- 
ing to  Londonderry  forthwith.  The  girl  had  no  one 
to  assist  her  in  their  hasty  flight  but  a  brave  and 
trusty  servant  who  had  served  with  her  father  abroad, 
and  who  had  been  since  taken  into  her  grandfather's 
service.  Together  they  had  bundled  the  old  man 
into  the  coach,  and  leaving  the  great  house  to  its 
fate,  had  set  out  for  the  city  of  refuge.  How  they 
fared  on'  their  way  thither  we  have  already  seen. 

Gervase  walked  by  Bayard's  bridle,  unmindful  of 
all  weariness  and  regardless  of  all  dangers,  seeking, 
after  the  manner  of  young  men,  to  make  the  most 
of  the  sweet  society  into  which  chance  had  so 
strangely  thrown  him.  He  was  indignant  with  him- 
self that  he  was  ashamed  of  his  rags,  though  by 
way  of  making  up  for  these,  he  began  to  talk 
of  his  life  in  Dublin  and  the  gay  doings  of  the 
capital. 

At  this  Dorothy's  sense  of  humour  was  touched, 
and  much  to  his  confusion  she  began  to  laugh  aloud. 
"Your  talk  in  such  a  figure,  of  the  Castle  and  of 
Tyrconnell  and  of  my  Lady,  is  a  most  excellent 
remedy  for  lowness  of  spirits.  I  cannot  set  matters 
straight,  and  must  become  accustomed  to  your  mode. 
And  yet  I  think  I  could  have  told  that  you  were 
a  gentleman." 

"That  is  something,"  said  Gervase,  a  little  mol- 
lified, «  and  how? " 

"  Because,"  she  answered,  with  a  nai've  glance  that 
disarmed  his  resentment,  "  your  present  garments  fit 


OF  THE  RESCUE   FROM   GREAT  PERIL.         105 

you  so  ill.  But  I  am  very  wrong  to  jest  at  such  a 
time,  and  your  friend  does  not  seem  to  admire 
laughter.  I  think  that  I  could  have  told  anywhere 
that  he  was  a  soldier.  You  could  not  mistake  his 
carriage. " 

"A  better  soldier  and  a  truer  friend  there  never 
was, "  Gervase  answered  warmly ;  "  and  that  you  will 
have  cause  to  admit  before  your  journey  ends." 

"  I  think, "  she  said,  "  that  you  yourself  fight  not 
so  badly.  Oh !  why  was  I  not  a  man  that  I  might 
strike  for  religion  and  liberty?  it  is  a  miserable  thing 
to  be  a  woman  in  times  like  these." 

"I  hope  I  am  not  a  coward,"  Gervase  answered, 
u  but  I  have  already  seen  enough  of  warfare  to  dis- 
like my  trade,  and  would  never  fight  if  it  were 
possible  to  avoid  it.  But  fight  we  must  for  our 
rights  and  liberties  and, "  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "  in 
defence  of  those  we  love." 

"  And,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  is  it  for  these  last  that 
you  are  fighting?  But  I  have  no  right  to  ask  you 
that,  though  I  have  been  told  that  men  say  love  is 
out  of  fashion.  Indeed  I  think  that  it  is  no  longer 
in  vogue." 

"  I  care  not  for  fashion  in  these  things,  but  I 
have  begun  to  think  that  there  might  be  such  loving 
as  would  make  life  a  royal  thing  to  live.  I  mean 
not  love  that  asks  to  be  loved  in  return,  though  I 
should  like  that  too,  but  a  love  that  fills  the  heart 
with  great  and  splendid  thoughts,  and  raises  it  above 
contemptible  and  base  designs;  the  love  I  mean  is 
wholly  pure  and  unselfish  and  lifts  the  lover  above 


106  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

himself.  I  know  not  whether  you  know  the  lines  of 
that  sonnet— 

"  I  think,"  she  said  smiling,  "  we  will  change 
the  subject.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  far  too 
romantic  to  conduct  a  young  and  unprotected  damsel 
on  a  dangerous  journey  like  this.  Your  grim  Cap- 
tain Macpherson  were  a  far  fitter  and  more  becom- 
ing companion — he  would  not  breathe  out  his 
aspirations  in  rhyme,  or  relieve  his  love-laden  soul 
in  a  ballad.  Heigho!  I  shall  never  understand 
you  men.  But  now  tell  me  about  your  journey 
from  Londonderry,  and  how  it  came  about  that  you 
were  wounded?" 

And  thereupon  Gervase  proceeded  to  relate  the 
story  of  his  ride  by  night  and  the  skirmish  on  the 
road,  passing  lightly  over  such  incidents  as  might 
be  unfitting  for  a  woman's  ear  to  listen  to. 

But  when  he  mentioned  the  name  of  De  Laprade 
she  stopped  him.  "And  you  have  met  my  cousin 
Victor,  for  it  can  be  no  other  ?  I  had  not  heard  that 
he  had  come  to  Ireland." 

"I  mean  the  Vicomte  de  Laprade.  He  is  not 
much  older  than  myself,  with  a  slight  lisp,  and  very 
fair  for  a  Frenchman." 

"Yes,  that  is  he.  You  do  not  know  that  he  is 
in  some  sort  my  cousin,  my  mother  having  been  of 
his  family.  He  was  in  London  when  I  was  a  girl 
living  with  my  aunt,  and  he  would  corne  to  visit 
us  whenever  he  could  tear  himself  away  from  the 
cards  and  the  festivities  of  Whitehall.  Poor  Victor ! 
he  was  a  sad  rake  in  those  days,  and  I  fear  he 


OF  THE   RESCUE   FROM   GREAT  PERIL.         107 

would  never  have  come  to  Ireland  had  he  not  run 
through  his  fortune." 

"  He  hinted,  indeed,  at  something  of  that  sort, " 
said  Gervase,  "  but  he  is  a  gallant  fellow,  and  one 
cannot  but  like  him.  He  hath  done  a  great  deal 
for  me." 

"It  would  be  strange  should  we  meet  here,  yet 
who  can  tell?  For  it  is  as  likely  we  shall  find 
ourselves  within  the  Irish  camp  as  within  the  walls 
of  Londonderry.  I  wonder  in  what  manner  we  should 
be  treated  there?" 

"Camps  are  ever  lawless  places,"  Gervase  an- 
swered, "  and  offer  little  entertainment  for  a  lady.  I 
trust  that  you  will  not  be  called  upon  to  make  the 
trial.  But  Macpherson  is  calling  upon  us  to  stop; 
we  have  already  travelled  too  far  in  advance." 

The  road  now  ran  through  a  wooded  and  undulat- 
ing country,  and  they  were  coming  close  to  the  ford 
by  which  they  hoped  to  cross.  At  times  they  had 
been  able  to  catch  a  distant  glimpse  of  the  river 
bright  with  the  fading  sunset,  but  so  far  as  Gervase 
was  able  to  see,  there  was  no  sign  of  the  enemy, 
and  he  had  begun  to  hope  that  they  might  pass 
unmolested. 

"  It  is  time,"  said  Macpherson,  as  he  came  up,  "  that 
we  should  determine  on  our  plan  of  action,  for  we 
can  go  no  further.  The  ford  yonder  is  guarded. 
I  caught  the  gleam  of  arms  but  a  minute  ago  from 
the  top  of  the  hill,  and  there  is  part  of  a  troop  of 
horse  in  the  little  grove  yonder  to  the  right.  I  know 
the  sound  too  well  to  mistake  it.  If  it  be  possible 


108  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

to  cross  I  shall  soon  know;  though — and  here  I 
speak,  not  with  any  selfish  or  dishonourable  intention, 
but  as  a  man  of  honour  and  a  soldier,  it  were,  perhaps, 
best  that  this  lady  and  her  grandfather  should  place 
themselves  of  their  free  will  in  the  hands  of  yonder 
gentry,  and  trust  to  their  humanity  for  generous 
treatment.  It  is  a  perilous  undertaking  that  we 
have  in  hand,  and  bullets  may  presently  be  flying. 
However,  as  Providence  has  in  some  measure  placed 
you  under  our  care,  should  it  be  your  good  pleasure, 
we  will  do  as  best  we  can." 

"  My  grandfather  is  an  old  and  defenceless  man, " 
answered  Dorothy,  with  spirit,  "  and  as  you  have 
seen,  carries  with  him  a  great  quantity  of  treasure, 
which  I  would  that  I  had  never  seen.  What  treat- 
ment, think  you,  is  he  likely  to  receive  at  the  hands 
of  those  who  live  on  the  fruit  of  robbery  and  murder?" 

"  Miss  Carew  is  right,  Captain  Macpherson, "  said 
Gervase,  "  and  whatever  your  design  may  be,  I 
shall  abide  with  her,  and  so  far  as  my  help  goes, 
shall  see  that  she  and  her  grandfather  pass  unscathed." 

"  I  well  knew, "  answered  Macpherson  bitterly, 
"that  you  would  do  nothing  less,  though  it  may 
come  to  pass  that  you  will  both  suffer  for  it  here- 
after. My  design,  as  you  phrase  it,  is  even  to  go 
gently  forward,  and  see  in  what  manner  yon  loons 
have  set  their  guard,  and  of  what  strength  they 
may  be.  In  the  meantime,  I  should  advise  that 
you  withdraw  into  that  clump  of  oak  trees  where  you 
may  safely  await  my  coming,  which  will  be  within 
the  hour.  I  had  looked  for  some  sense  from  you, 


OF   THE   RESCUE   FROM   GREAT   PERIL.          109 

Mr.  Orme,  but  I  find  that  you  are  no  wiser  than 
the  rest  of  them.  'Fore  God  we  are  all  fools  to- 
gether." 

Before  Gervase  had  time  to  reply  he  had  disap- 
peared within  the  undergrowth  that  grew  densely 
by  the  roadside,  and  Gervase  and  the  girl  stood  look- 
ing at  one  another  in  silence ;  the  same  grave  sus- 
picion had  presented  itself  to  both  of  them.  "  What 
think  you  of  your  friend  ?  "  she  said,  with  indignation. 

"  For  a  moment  I  hardly  knew  what  to  think," 
Gervase  answered,  "  but  my  faith  in  him  is  not  a 
whit  shaken.  Believe  me,  we  may  trust  him  unre- 
servedly, and  in  good  time  he  will  prove  that  I  am 
right.  He  will  do  whatever  a  man  may  to  bring 
you  safely  through,  and  will  risk  life  and  limb  to 
serve  you.  And  now  let  us  follow  his  directions, 
for  if  the  ford  be  indeed  guarded,  'tis  a  wonder  that 
we  were  not  long  since  discovered." 

Taking  Colonel  Carew's  horse  by  the  bridle,  Ger- 
vase led  him  into  the  oak  wood  followed  by  Dorothy. 
Here  there  proved  to  be  excellent  shelter,  for  the 
underwood  had  grown  thick  and  high,  and  discovery 
was  impossible  so  long  as  the  enemy  kept  to  the 
road,  which  it  was  likely  they  would  do  unless  their 
suspicions  were  aroused. 

The  old  man  was  helped  from  his  horse  and 
seated  himself  upon  a  fallen  tree,  with  his  precious 
box  clasped  upon  his  knees,  speaking  no  word,  but 
looking  straight  before  him,  with  a  fixed  unmeaning 
gaze.  He  appeared  to  be  unconscious  of  what  was 
taking  place  round  him,  and  insensible  of  the  dangers 


110  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

to  which  they  were  exposed.  Dorothy  knelt  down 
beside  him  and  placed  her  hands  on  his.  He  was 
muttering  wild  and  incoherent  words. 

"  Grandfather, "  she  said,  "  do  you  know  me  ?  " 
He  looked  at  her  with  a  frown.  "  Ay,  girl, 
wherefore  not?"  he  answered.  "Talk  no  more,  but 
fill  up  my  glass  till  the  red  wine  runs  over.  There 
is  plenty  where  it  came  from — plenty,  and  gold 
that  is  better  than  wine,  girl;  and  bars  of  silver 
and  stones  of  price.  We  who  sail  under  the  Jolly 
Roger  cannot  afford  to  be  scrupulous.  You  are  sly, 
wench,  damnably  sly,  but  you  will  not  overreach 
me.  Nay,  you  shall  have  a  doubloon  or  two  for 
yourself  and  a  bundle  of  silks  from  our  next  ven- 
ture. I  am  grown  stiff  with  this  long  lying  ashore, 
and  am  well  wearied  for  a  breath  of  the  Spanish 
Main. 

" '  For  the  guns  are  all  ready  and  the  decks  are  all  clear 
And  the  prize  is  awaiting  the  bold  Buccaneer ! ' " 

Dorothy  rose  and  wrung  her  hands  with  a  gesture 
of  despair.  Gervase  could  see  that  the  wild  words 
of  the  old  man  had  touched  her  beyond  descrip- 
tion. It  was  not  so  much  that  they  showed  his 
mind  had  left  him;  they  had  revealed  the  terrible 
secret  of  his  early  life — a  secret  that  till  now 
she  had  never  dreamed  of.  She  had  instinctively 
guessed  the  truth,  and  it  had  covered  her  with 
shame,  as  though  the  crime  and  the  reproach  were 
her  own.  Gervase  out  of  regard  for  her  feelings 
withdrew  to  a  distance,  and  busied  himself  in  getting 


OF  THE  RESCUE  FROM  GREAT  PERIL          III 

ready  a  supper,  which  matter,  necessary  as  it 
was,  had  quite  escaped  his  thoughts.  But  Dorothy, 
though  he  pressed  her  strongly,  refused  to  partake 
of  it. 

"  I  cannot  taste  of  food, "  she  said,  "  and  you  know 
the  reason — you  also  have  heard  the  dreadful  words. 
That  accursed  money  comes — Oh!  I  might  have 
guessed  it,  but  who  would  have  thought? — and  he 
is  so  old  and  so  frail  and — and  I  think  he  is  going 
to  die.  Oh!  it  is  very  terrible.  I  was  so  proud 
of  my  name,  and  the  honour  of  my  house,  and 
now " 

Gervase  had  no  words  with  which  to  comfort  her, 
and  so  the  three — the  two  men  and  the  girl — sat 
here  in  the  thicket,  speaking  never  a  word.  But  for 
the  young  man,  he  could  not  take  his  eyes  off  the 
sweet,  strong  face  that  looked  so  lovely  in  its  grief — 
the  lips  that  trembled,  and  the  eyes  that  were  dimmed 
with  unshed  tears.  Half  an  hour  passed  in  silence  ; 
only  the  far-off  murmur  of  the  river  came  faintly 
through  the  twilight,  and  the  whirr  of  a  startled  bird, 
or  the  hasty  scamper  of  a  rabbit  or  a  rat,  broke 
the  stillness  round  them.  As  yet  there  was  no 
appearance  of  Macpherson.  And  then  Gervase  began 
to  wonder  whether,  after  all,  Dorothy  might  not  have 
been  right  in  her  hasty  surmise,  and  whether  he 
might  not  have  sought  his  own  safety  in  flight,  and 
left  them  to  their  fate.  But  he  instantly  dismissed  the 
suggestion  from  his  mind  as  ungenerous  and  unjust. 

Then,  at  that  moment,  a  shot  rang  out  in  the 
evening  air,  and  another,  and  another.  The  sound 


112  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

came  from  the  river,  and  as  they  stood  and  listened, 
they  could  hear  the  jinging  of  bridles  and  the  clank  of 
weapons,  for  the  air  was  somewhat  frosty  and  very 
still.  They  had  risen  to  their  feet  and  stood 
listening,  only  Gervase  had  drawn  his  sword,  and 
instinctively  stepped  nearer  to  where  the  girl  was 
standing.  Soon  they  heard  the  sound  of  hasty  foot- 
steps and  the  crashing  of  branches,  as  someone  made 
his  way  writh  impetuous  haste  through  the  undenvood. 
Then  Macpherson  appeared  bareheaded,  with  a 
smoking  pistol  in  his  hand. 

"  There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose,"  he  cried.  "  Into 
the  road  and  make  what  terms  you  can.  They  are 
regular  troops  and  may  not  use  you  ill,  but  escape 
you  cannot,  and  I  may  not  tarry  here.  I  have 
done  for  one  of  them,  and,  I  think,  another  will  never 
hear  'boots  and  saddle'  sounded  again.  'Tis  your 
only  hope." 

u  And  what, "  cried  Gervase,  "  do  you  purpose 
doing? " 

"  Saving  my  neck  if  it  be  possible.  I  cannot  serve 
you,  but  would  only  make  your  case  the  worse. 
It  goes  against  my  heart  to  leave  you,  but  for  your 
sake  and  my  own  I  can  do  naught  else.  Stay,"  he 
continued,  "  there  is  one  thing  more.  For  that  box 
they  would  cut  your  throats,  and  they  must  not 
find  it  with  you.  Madam,  can  you  trust  me?  lam 
rugged  and  I  am  rough,  but  I  think  I  am  honest." 

Dorothy  looked  at  him  fairly  a  moment  and  their 
eyes  met.  "Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  clear,  strong  voice, 
"I  can  trust  you  wholly." 


OF  THE  RESCUE  FROM  GREAT  PERIL.         113 

"Then,  sir,"  he  said,  stepping  forward  to  the  old 
man,  "  By  your  leave  and  license  I  must,  for  your 
own  good,  relieve  you  of  your  toys. "  With  a  quick 
movement  he  took  the  box  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
old  man  who  stared  at  him  with  a  bewildered  gaze, 
and  then  with  a  hurried  farewell,  he  passed  out  of 
sight.  Colonel  Carew  uttered  a  loud,  shrill  scream 
and  fell  forward  on  the  grass.  Dorothy  ran  forward 
and  tried  to  turn  him  over,  but  she  had  not  strength 
enough.  Then  Gervase  knelt  down  to  help  her, 
but  when  he  saw  the  wrhite,  frowning  face,  one  glance 
was  sufficient  to  show  him  how  it  was.  The  old 
adventurer,  with  all  his  sins  fresh  in  his  memory  and 
his  wicked  life  rekindled,  as  it  were,  out  of  the 
ashes  of  the  past,  had  gone  to  his  account. 

The  dragoons,  who  had  hastily  mounted  on  dis- 
covering Macpherson,  and  had  been  riding  down  the 
road,  reined  in  their  horses,  and  dismounting,  plunged 
into  the  coppice.  The  old  man's  sudden  and  startling 
outcry  had  guided  them  to  the  fugitives'  place  of 
concealment.  They  set  up  a  loud  shout  when  they 
were  discovered,  and  one  fellow  was  about  to  pistol 
Gervase  when  another  struck  up  his  hand  and  re- 
strained him. 

"Time  enough  for  that.  We'll  put  a  question  or 
two  first,"  said  the  sergeant  who  commanded  the 
party.  "  Tie  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  bring 
him  out  into  the  road.  The  old  man  is  dead  as  a 
nail,"  he  continued,  touching  the  lifeless  body  with 
his  foot,  "  and  the  wench  is  no  doubt  his  daughter. 
By  my  soul !  she's  a  beauty :  now  look  you,  the  first 

8 


114  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

man-Jack  of  you  who  lays  his  finger  on  her,  I'll 
blow  his  brains  out,  so  help  me  God!  and  you 
know  I'm  a  man  of  my  word.  Don't  fear,  madam ; 
they're  rough  but  kindly." 

As  they  led  Gervase  out  into  the  road,  one  hope 
was  uppermost  in  his  mind,  and  that  was  that  they 
might  fall  in  with  some  officer  of  sufficient  authority 
to  whose  care  he  might  confide  Dorothy,  and  to 
whose  sense  of  honour  he  should  not  appeal  in  vain. 
There  were  still  many  gallant  gentlemen  in  the  Irish 
army  in  whose  eyes  a  woman's  reputation  would 
be  sacred. 

The  dragoons  who  guarded  him  followed  the 
sergeant  out  into  the  open,  and  they  halted  under 
a  great  oak  that  threw  its  broad  branches  across 
the  road.  Dorothy  had  implored  them  to  bring  her 
grandfather's  body  with  them,  and  on  their  refusing 
had  seated  herself  beside  it.  But  without  using 
any  great  violence,  they  had  insisted  on  her  follow- 
ing the  rest  of  the  party.  She  had  shed  no  tears, 
but  her  face  was  very  white,  and  her  breath  came 
quickly  in  little,  convulsive  sobs.  Gervase  looked 
at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  away  his  head. 

"Now,"  said  the  sergeant,  "we'll  see  what  stuff 
he's  made  of.  How  say  you,  sir?  On  what  side  are 
you?  Are  you  for  King  James?" 

"I  am  for  law  and  order,"  answered  Gervase. 
"  This  young  lady  and  I  were  on  a  peaceful  journey, 
wishing  ill  and  intending  hurt  to  no  one,  and  I  know 
not  what  right  you  have  to  hinder  us." 

"That  is  no  answer  to  my  question,  sir;  but  I'll 


OF  THE   RESCUE  FROM   GREAT   PERIL.         115 

answer  for  you — you're  a  Whig  and  in  arms  against 
the  King,  or  would  be.  Where  is  your  authority? 
And  now  another  question  and  I  have  done  with 
you:  Where  is  the  prickeared  knave  gone  who 
pistolled  poor  Cornet  White  and  sent  another  of 
ours  to  kingdom  come?  I'll  take  my  oath  he  was 
of  your  party." 

"  I  saw  no  pistolling, "  said  Gervase ;  "  is  it 
like  in  such  force  as  you  see  us,  we  should  fall 
upon  a  troop  of  dragoons?  Why,  man,  it  was 
because  we  were  afraid  to  venture  near  you  that 
we  hid  ourselves  in  the  tangle  yonder." 

"  This  jesting  will  not  answer,  Master  Whig.  I'll 
give  you  one  chance  of  saving  your  neck  and  only 
one — what  way  went  he?" 

"Look  you  here,  sergeant,"  said  Gervase,  seeing 
the  desperate  position  in  which  he  was  placed,  "  I'm 
a  gentleman,  and  it  would  profit  you  little  to  shoot 
or  hang  me.  See  this  lady  and  myself  safe  through 
to  Londonderry,  and  you  will  have  twenty  golden 
guineas  for  yourself  and  five  for  every  man  here 
in  your  company.  I  cannot  say  you  fairer,  and  if 
not  for  my  sake  or  the  money's,  then  for  the  sake 
of  this  helpless  lady." 

"  This  lady  will  be  well  cared  for,  never  fear,  and 
for  your  guineas,  I'm  thinking  by  the  time  you  got 
to  Londonderry,  they  would  be  own  brothers  to  the 
lads  they  are  making  in  Dublin.  Come,  my  man, 
you'll  have  sixty  seconds  to  answer  my  question, 
and  then  Hurrah  for  the  kingdom  of  glory."  So 
saying  he  took  a  piece  of  rope  from  the  hands  of 


Il6  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

one  of  the  men  and  began  leisurely  to  measure  it, 
a  foot  at  a  time,  looking  up  occasionally  from  the 
operation  to  see  how  it  affected  the  prisoner. 

"My  God!  you  would  not  hang  me?" 

"Ay,  that  I  would,  with  a  heart  and  a  half  and 
high  as  Haman,  if  the  rope  were  long  enough. 
The  time  is  nearly  up — How  say  you?" 

"I  say  that  I  care  not  how  you  use  me,  if  you 
see  the  lady  safe.  Hang  me  if  you  will." 

"  The  time  is  up  and  you  have  not  answered  an 
honest  question.  Now,  lads,  we'll  see  if  this  heretic 
rogue  can  do  anything  but  prate.  It  seems  to 
me  he  looks  a  strolling  player  and  may  be  one 
for  all  I  know."  So  saying  he  deftly  threw  the 
rope  round  the  thick  branch  that  grew  over  the 
road,  and  placed  his  hand  on  the  prisoner's  shoulder. 

Up  to  this  time  Dorothy  could  not  believe  that  he 
meant  to  carry  out  his  savage  threat,  but  she  saw 
now  that  this  was  no  mere  jest  but  a  matter  of 
life  and  death.  The  business  was  evidently  to  the 
taste  of  the  troopers,  and  two  of  them  laid  aside 
their  firelocks  and  placed  their  hands  upon  the  rope. 
Then  she  sprang  forward  and  caught  the  sergeant 
by  the  arm.  "  You  do  not  mean  what  you  say, " 
she  cried,  "  he  has  never  wronged  you,  nor  have  I, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  me  and  the  dead  old  man 
yonder,  he  had  not  been  in  your  power  now.  For 
my  sake,  for  God's  sake,  you  will  not  injure  him. " 

The  man  seemed  touched  for  a  minute,  so  wild 
was  she,  and  so  beautiful,  in  her  despair,  and  then 
he  shook  her  off  roughly.  "  Women  have  nothing 


OF  THE  RESCUE   FROM   GREAT  PERIL.         117 

to  do  in  these  affairs.  Two  of  you  fellows  take  her 
away,  and  leave  us  to  finish  this  business  in  peace. 
Now,  make  haste  about  the  matter,  and  get  this 
damnable  job  out  of  hand.  We  must  look  after 
the  other  fellow  before  night  comes  down." 

Dorothy  turned  white  and  faint,  and  seemed 
like  to  have  fallen  on  the  road  as  Gervase  held  out 
his  hand  to  her  and  said,  with  a  lump  in  his  throat, 

"  Good-bye,  Miss  Carew,  I  regret  quitting  life 
less  than  leaving  you  in  this  company,  but  my  last 
prayer  on  earth  is  for  your  safety.  Could  my  life 
have  brought  you  help,  I  should  have  given  it  up 
without  regret." 

Then  she  broke  down  utterly,  and  they  led  her 
away,  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  Suddenly, 
at  that  moment  there  was  heard  the  sound  of  a 
horse  coming  rapidly  along  the  road,  and  the  men 
who  were  busied  placing  the  noose  round  Gervase's 
neck,  stopped  short  in  their  work.  Dorothy  heard 
the  sound  also,  and  looked  up.  An  officer,  appar- 
ently of  distinguished  rank,  accompanied  by  a  couple 
of  dragoons,  was  advancing  at  a  rapid  trot. 

His  military  cloak,  richly  embroidered,  was  thrown 
open,  and  showed  a  burnished  cuirass  underneath. 
His  broad-brimmed  hat  adorned  with  a  single 
white  feather,  nearly  concealed  his  face.  As  he 
approached,  Dorothy  struggled  in  the  hands  of  the 
man  who  held  her  and  freeing  herself,  ran  swiftly 
down  the  road  to  meet  him.  As  he  came  up  he 
reined  in  his  black  charger. 

"Thank    God!"    she  cried,    "you  have   come  in 


I 


Il8  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

time.  You,  at  least,  are  a  gentleman,  and  you  will 
save  him." 

"I  hope,  madam,  I  am  a  gentleman,"  he  said, 
with  a  high,  courteous  manner  and  in  a  voice  that 
was  at  once  strong  and  musical.  "  I  shall  examine 
into  this  matter,  and  if  I  can  in  duty  and  in  honour 
render  you  this  service,  you  may  rely  upon  me." 

Then  hurriedly,  and  almost  incoherently,  she  told 
him  her  story,  or  as  much  as  she  thought  necessary 
for  her  purpose;  and  when  she  had  finished  he  called 
out  to  one  of  the  mounted  troopers  to  take  his  horse. 

"Now,  Miss  Carew,"  he  said,  dismounting,  and 
raising  his  hat  with  a  stately  courtesy,  "  having 
heard  your  story,  I  am  rejoiced  that  I  have  arrived 
in  time.  These  lambs  of  mine  are  hasty  in  their 
work  and,  I  fear,  have  not  always  warrant  for  what 
they  do.  Believe  me,  I  am  sorry  for  your  case  and 
will  do  what  I  can  to  aid  you.  And  now  let  us 
see  how  the  gentleman  has  borne  himself,  who  has 
so  fair  an  advocate  to  plead  his  cause." 

With  these  words,  taking  her  hand  he  led  her 
up  to  the  group  which  stood  under  the  tree  awaiting 
his  approach.  Gervase  had  given  himself  up  for 
lost,  and  had  commended  his  soul  to  his  Maker,  for 
the  rope  had  already  been  adjusted  round  his  neck, 
and  willing  hands  were  only  waiting  for  the  word 
of  command  from  the  sergeant  to  turn  him  off. 
But  as  the  mounted  officer  rode  up  and  the  feHows 
suspended  their  work,  he  felt  instinctively  that  he 
had  been  saved.  The  look  of  baffled  hate  on  the 
sergeant's  face  showed  that.  The  officer  came  up 


OF  THE   RESCUE   FROM   GREAT   PERIL.         119 

leading  Dorothy  by  the  hand,  and  the  dragoons 
saluted  him  silently.  He  gave  Gervase  one  quick 
searching  look,  a  look  that  flashed  with  keen  intel- 
ligence and  seemed  to  take  in  every  detail  in 
a  moment,  and  then  said  sternly,  "  Unbind  the  pri- 
soner, and  take  down  that  rope."  He  stood  quietly, 
speaking  no  word,  but  waited  with  his  keen  eyes 
fixed  on  Gervase,  until  the  dragoons  had  unbound 
the  prisoner's  hands  and  removed  the  hempen  cord 
from  his  neck.  The  work  being  completed,  the  men 
fell  back  a  few  paces. 

"Now,  sirrah!"  he  said,  turning  to  the  sergeant, 
"  what  does  this  mean  ?  By  whose  orders  or  instruc- 
tions were  you  about  to*  hang  this  gentleman?  Is 
it  thus  that  you  do  your  duty?  While  the  fellow 
who  shot  down  your  officer  has  been  making  his 
escape,  you  have  been  preparing  to  murder  an 
unoffending  traveller  whom  it  was  your  duty  to 
protect.  Had  I  been  five  minutes  later,  I  do  not 
doubt  that  I  should  have  strung  you  up  beside  him. 
Good  God!  it  is  fellows  like  you  who  make  me 
blush  for  my  countrymen.  Now,  look  you,  the  man 
who  has  made  his  escape  must  be  brought  in  before 
nightfall.  Should  you  fail  to  capture  him  you  will 
see  how  I  deal  with  men  who  forget  that  they  are 
soldiers  and  act  like  caterans." 

"  This  fellow,  if  it  please  your  honour "  began 

the  sergeant. 

"Silence,  sirrah!  Take  your  men  and  search  the 
wood.  This  man  must  not  escape,  and  when  you 
return,  report  yourself  to  me  at  the  house  by  the 


120  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

ford.  Take  all  the  men  with  you;  I  shall  return 
alone.  Stay,  there  is  one  thing  more. "  Here  glanc- 
ing1 hastily  at  Dorothy,  he  walked  a  short  distance 
away,  and  in  a  low  tone  gave  orders  with  regard 
to  the  remains  of  Colonel  Carew,  which  he  directed 
to  be  brought  down  to  the  post  and  await  his 
instructions  there.  The  man  saluted,  and  giving  the 
necessary  orders  with  a  sullen  and  crestfallen  air, 
left  his  superior  standing  alone  with  the  prisoner. 

"  Give  me  no  thanks,  sir, "  he  said,  interrupting 
Gervase.  "  For  I  have  only  done  for  you  what  an 
Irish  gentleman  is  bound  in  honour  to  do.  Our 
men  will  do  these  lawless  deeds,  but  with  the 
party  to  which  you  belong  rests  the  blame,  having 
made  them  what  they  are.  Till  now  they  have 
been  slaves  with  all  the  vices  of  the  slave;  they 
cannot  learn  the  moderation  and  restraint  of  freemen 
in  a  day.  However,"  he  continued,  with  a  smile 
that  lighted  up  his  dark  face,  "  this  is  no  speech  to 
address  to  a  man  who  has  just  escaped  the  gallows. 
Miss  Carew  tells  me  you  are  now  on  your  way  to 
Londonderry  seeking  refuge  and  safety  there.  I  do 
not  propose  to  advise  you,  but  within  a  fortnight 
the  city  will  be  in  our  hands,  and  meanwhile  must 
undergo  the  dangers  of  a  siege.  We  do  not  make 
war  on  women,  and  Miss  Carew  may  rely  on  me 
to  help  her  to  a  place  of  safety." 

"My  friends  are  there,"  said  Dorothy;  "I  have 
not  elsewhere  to  go." 

"  We  have  indeed  proposed, "  said  Gervase,  "  to 
take  refuge  in  Londonderry,  and  since  Miss  Carew 


OF  THE  RESCUE  FROM   GREAT    PERIL.         121 

has  lost — is  alone,  I  know  not  where  else  she  can 
betake  herself.  For  myself  I  am  indebted  to  you, 
sir,  for  my  life,  and  you  may  dispose  of  me  as  you 
will;  but  for  the  lady,  I  would  beg  you  to  allow 
her  to  pass  safely  through  your  lines  and  join  her 
friends  in  the  city." 

"  That  might  easily  be  done,  but  surely  Dublin 
were  safer  ?  " 

"  As  I  have  said, "  answered  Dorothy,  "  my  friends 
are  all  in  Londonderry,  and  I  should  prefer  to  share 
their  danger." 

"  Well !  we  shall  see  how  it  may  be,  but  in  the 
meantime,  I  shall  ask  you  to  share  my  hospitality, 
such  as  it  is,  to-night,  and  to-morrow  we  will  devise 
some  plan  for  your  security.  Miss  Carew  may 
safely  place  herself  in  the  hands  of  Patrick  Sars- 
field,"  and  he  raised  his  hat  with  the  bel  air  that 
sat  so  easily  upon  him. 

Gervase  looked  with  curiosity  on  the  great  Irish 
leader,  than  whom  no  more  notable  figure  and 
chivalrous  gentleman  fought  in  the  Irish  ranks,  and 
lent  lustre  and  honour  to  a  somewhat  tarnished 
cause.  He  was  little,  indeed,  above  the  middle 
height,  but  his  bold  and  gallant  bearing  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  being  of  more  than  the  ordinary 
stature.  His  brow  was  frank  and  open,  and  his 
eyes  had  the  clear  and  resolute  gaze  of  a  man 
accustomed  to  bold  and  perilous  action — ardent,  impe- 
tuous, and  courageous.  His  speech  came  rapidly,  and 
his  utterance  was  of  the  clearest  and  most  decisive. 
Accustomed  to  camps  he  had  yet  the  air  of  a  well- 


122  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

bred  man  of  the  world,  and  when  he  smiled  his 
face  lost  the  fixed  and  somewhat  melancholy  air  it 
wore  when  in  repose. 

"  And  you  are  Colonel  Sarsfield?  "  Dorothy  inquired. 
:!  Then  we  are  friends,  for  you  were  the  friend  of 
my  aunt  Lady  Bellasis. " 

"  Truly  she  was  my  very  good  friend,  and  her  son 
Will — your  cousin,  I  presume — was  my  dear  crony 
and  companion-in-arms.  We  served  together  during 
Monmouth's*  campaign,  and  I  might  almost  say  that 
he  died  in  my  arms  at  Taunton.  You  are  then  the 
Dorothy  of  whom  I  heard  him  speak.  I  think  his 
death  broke  his  mother's  heart.  It  is  strange  that 
we  should  meet  here,  but  life  is  made  up  of  strange 
things;  we  should  wonder  at  nothing.  Now,  Mr. 
Orme,  I  shall  give  the  lady  my  arm,  and  we  will 
see  whether  even  here  in  the  desert  they  cannot 
furnish  us  with  a  bottle  of  wine,  that  we  may  drink 
to  peace  and  a  settlement  of  differences.  Only  I 
should  like  to  say  this:  I  ask  no  questions,  and 
look  upon  you  only  as  Miss  Carew's  companion 
and  protector;  I  expect  that  you  will  close  your 
eyes  to  anything  that  you  may  see,  and  ever  after 
be  silent  on  the  matter." 

"I  hope,"  answered  Gervase,  "I  know  better 
than  to  take  advantage  of  your  great  kindness.  I 
shall  observe  your  instructions  to  the  letter." 

"  'Tis  very  well.  Come,  Miss  Carew,"  Sarsfield 
said,  extending  his  hand,  "  this  hath  been  a  melan- 
choly journey  for  you,  and  henceforth  I  wish  you 
happier  fortune.  I  have  given  orders  regarding  the 


OF   THE   RESCUE  FROM   GREAT   PERIL.         123 

interment  of  your  kinsman,  and  will  spare  you  all 
the  pain  I  can." 

Dorothy  thanked  him  with  a  look,  and  was  silent. 
Beside  the  river  was  a  farm-house  which  was  evi- 
dently used  as  a  military  station,  for  before  the  door 
a  number  of  dragoons — perhaps  a  dozen — were 
gathered  in  small  groups,  and  several  horses  were 
picketed  in  the  enclosure  which  had  formerly  been 
used  as  a  garden. 

As  they  entered  the  house  they  were  saluted  by 
the  strong  odour  of  tobacco-smoke.  A  man  was 
engaged  in  cooking  at  the  open  hearth,  and  another 
was  seated  on  a  chair  hard  by,  watching  the  opera- 
tion as  he  smoked  his  pipe  in  silence,  and  beat  a 
tattoo  with  his  heels  upon  the  earthen  floor.  The 
latter  was  a  remarkable-looking  man  in  every  way. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  plain  red  coat,  with  a  tangled 
weather-beaten  wig  hanging  down  at  full  length. 
He  wore  a  faded  beaver  with  a  narrow  brim,  and 
had  a  dirty  yellow-coloured  cravat  tied  carelessly 
round  his  neck.  His  legs  were  very  long,  his  face 
was  full  of  freckles,  and  his  nose  was  tilted  up  in 
what  had  been  a  good-humoured  fashion  but  for 
the  heavy  and  forbidding  expression  of  his  mouth. 
As  they  came  in  he  did  not  rise  but  merely  removed 
his  pipe  from  his  lips. 

"How  now?"  he  asked. 

"  My  special  mission  hath  already  borne  fruit,  Col- 
onel Luttrel,"  said  Sarsfield  stiffly.  "This  lady  is  the 
kinswoman  of  a  late  very  dear  friend  of  mine,  and  your 
dragoons  have  used  her  with  the  scant est  courtesy." 


124  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"The  young  lady  hath  reason  to  be  thankful  'tis 
no  worse,  for  they  cannot  stand  the  sight  of  a  petticoat, 
and  they  could  not  be  expected  to  know  of  the 
relationship.  We'll  trust  to  the  supper,  which  is 
nearly  ready,  to  cure  her  wounded  feelings." 

"This  lady  is  my  friend,  sir,"  said  Sarsfi eld,  with 
a  frown. 

a  And  Colonel  Luttrel's  also,  I  hope, "  said  Dorothy, 
with  a  sweeping  curtesy,  which  made  the  soldier 
open  his  .eyes  to  their  widest  with  wonder  and  ad- 
miration, and  drew  a  smile  to  Sarsfield's  lips.  "  I 
think,  sir,  you  speak  very  sensibly  and  am  glad  to 
hear  that  supper  is  ready." 

The  Colonel  rose  from  his  chair,  laid  down  his  pipe, 
and  held  out  his  hand.  "  You  are  of  the  kind  that 
pleases  me,"  he  said,  "and  I  would,  my  dear,  that 
I  was  thirty  years  younger  for  your  sake.  Fine 
airs  never  pleased  me  yet  and,  damme!  you're  a 
beauty."  Again  Dorothy  curtesied  with  becoming 
gravity.  "Now,  sit  you  down,"  he  went  on,  "and 
let  me  hear  of  what  the  Colonel  yonder  complains, 
for  he  and  I,"  and  here  he  lowered  his  voice,  "strike 
it  off  but  ill.  If  any  man  of  mine  but  dared  to 
lay  his  finger  on  you,  I'll  give  him  a  round  dozen 
for  your  sake." 

"  I'm  sure  you  are  very  generous, "  Dorothy  said, 
demurely  enough,  and  thereafter  she  and  the  old  sol- 
dier began  to  talk  together  with  great  ease  and  friend- 
liness. Presently  he  was  laughing  loudly  at  her 
playful  sallies,  and  before  he  was  aware  she  drew 
the  heart  out  of  him  till  he  was  completely  her  servant 


OF  THE   RESCUE   FROM   GREAT  PERIL.         125 

I  have  seen  the  lady's  portrait  painted  but  a  few 
years  after  the  events  here  narrated,  and  I  say  in 
all  soberness  that  I  do  not  wonder  at  her  power.  Of 
her  mere  beauty  I  can  give  no  just  description,  but 
to  my  mind  her  chief  charm  lay  in  her  eyes,  the 
expression  of  which  the  painter — a  Fleming-,  whose 
name  has  escaped  my  memory — had  caught  with 
marvellous  fidelity.  Full  of  pride  and  stateliness, 
they  were  yet  prone  to  light  up  with  tenderness 
and  playful  humour,  to  which  her,  lips  gave  just 
and  fitting  emphasis.  Had  I  not  already  known 
something  of  her  life  I  should  yet  have  willingly 
taken  her  for  a  heroine.  And  yet  the  contemplation 
of  that  sweet  face  saddened  me  beyond  expression. 
Hanging  there  among  the  portraits  of  forgotten 
statesmen,  and  old-world  soldiers  who  fought  at 
Ramillies  and  Oudenarde,  the  presentment  of  that 
young  and  smiling  face,  so  full  of  tender  light  and 
gracious  sweetness,  looked  out  of  the  past  with  pathetic 
warning  that  all  things  have  the  same  fate  and  must 
go  the  same  inevitable  way. 

In  this  little  comedy  it  must  not  be  supposed  she 
was  altogether  acting  a  part,  or  that  in  anything 
she  said  or  did  she  was  inspired  by  any  other 
feeling  than  friendliness,  and  it  may  be  the  frolicsome 
humour,  that  was  in  her  a  characteristic  trait.  From 
time  to  time  she  looked  up  archly  at  Colonel  Sarsfield 
who  stood  smiling  by  the  window,  and  then  re- 
sumed her  conversation  with  increased  sprightliness. 

"  I  never  understand  women,  my  dear, "  Luttrel 
said. 


126  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"  And  you  never  will,  sir,  for  we  do  not  understand 
ourselves.  I  think  you  have  never  been. married?" 

u  The  Lord  be  praised  for  all  His  mercies,  that 
blessing  is  still  a  long  way  before  me.  I  mean, 
my  dear  young  lady,  no  offence  to  you,  but  rny 
brother  Phil  married  and  saved  the  rest  of  the  family." 

"  With  Colonel  Luttrel's  permission  we  will  draw 
a  veil  over  his  family  history." 

"Tis  mighty  well,"  said  the  other;  "commissary- 
general  to  a  ragged  army  of  fifteen,  and  his  wife 
still  a  rare  recruiting  sergeant." 

So  saying  he  took  his  place  stiffly  behind  his 
chair,  waiting  till  Dorothy  was  seated  at  the  supper 
table.  "  And  I  hope, "  he  growled,  looking  askance 
at  Gervase,  "  that  this  person  is  of  fit  condition  to 
sit  at  the  table  with  people  of  quality." 

"  Of  that  matter,  sir, "  said  Sarsfield,  "  I  am  perhaps 
the  best  judge.  Mr.  Orme,  will  you  do  me  the 
favour  to  take  this  chair  beside  me?  I  remember 
when  I  was  of  your  age  I  did  not  require  much 
invitation  after  a  long  day.  You  will  tell  Miss  Carew 
that  soldiers'  fare  is  ever  of  the  plainest.  And  as 
far  as  prudence  and  honour  will  permit,  I  should 
like  to  hear  something  of  your  journeying,  which 
seems  to  have  been  of  the  strangest,  or  so  this  fair 
advocate  would  have  me  believe." 

Gervase  long  remembered  this  strange  evening 
spent  in  this  curious  company.  He  was  wholly 
unable  to  resist  the  fascination  of  the  great  soldier's 
manner,  and  long  after  that  fiery  soul  had  passed 
away  in  the  onset  at  Landen,  would  dwell  upon  his 


OF  THE  RESCUE  FROM  GREAT  PERIL.         127 

memory  with  admiration  and  regret.  He  treated 
Gervase  with  perfect  friendliness,  delicately  avoiding 
all  matters  that  might  cause  offence.  He  related 
many  incident  in  his  own  career  with  perfect  frankness 
and  vivacity,  and  spoke  with  great  shrewdness  and 
insight  of  many  famous  men  that  he  had  met  Of 
Marlborough,  whom  he  had  known  in  Monmouth's 
campaign,  he  spoke  with  great  enthusiasm  in  his 
character  as  a  soldier,  though  he  affected  to  despise 
him  as  a  man;  and  Gervase  remembered  the  con- 
versation in  after  years,  when  the  hero  of  Blenheim 
returned  amid  the  plaudits  of  the  nation  and 
crowned  with  the  laurels  of  victory. 

Luttrel  listened  with  a  hard  and  solemn  visage; 
it  was  abundantly  clear  that  he  was  determined  that 
he  should  not  go  to  bed  sober,  and  was  already  far 
advanced  in  his  cups  before  Dorothy  left  the  table. 
But  he  was  entirely  silent  under  Sarsfield's  eye, 
and  merely  plied  the  bottle  with  great  assiduity. 
Presently  Dorothy  quited  the  room.  Sarsfield  standing 
with  his  hands  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  wished  her 
a  stately  "  good-night."  When  she  had  retired  he 
turned  to  Gervase. 

"  I  shall  not  see  you  again  this  evening,  Mr.  Orme," 
he  said,  "  and  I  have  not  asked  you  for  your  parole. 
Nor  is  such  my  intention.  On  your  word  I  know  that 
I  could  rely,  but  I  know  that  I  have  better  security 
for  your  safe  custody  there,"  and-  he  pointed  towards 
Dorothy's  room.  "  Good-night,  gentlemen,  and  I  trust 
that  you  will  not  quarrel, "  with  which  words  he  went  out. 

Luttrel   put  his  arms  on  the  table  and  looked  at 


THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 


Gervase  with  a  drunken  sneer.  "  The  Colonel  thinks 
that  he  is  a  mighty  pretty  fellow,  and  that  no  man 
knows  the  points  of  a  woman  but  himself.  And 
he  flirts  with  the  bottle  like  a  quaker,  which  I  have 
never  taken  to  be  the  first  sign  of  manhood.  Indeed, 
you  are  a  damnable  drinker  yourself.  Come,  sir, 
fill  up  your  glass  cheerfully,  or  I  shall  be  compelled 
to  think  you  have  an  objection  to  your  company." 

"  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  my  entertainment,  " 
Gervase  answered  good  humouredly,  unwilling  to 
create  any  dissension,  and  making  a  show  of  replen- 
ishing his  glass. 

"Why,  there,  that's  right!  But  I  may  tell  you 
frankly,  Mr.  What's-your-name,  that  had  this  thing 
been  left  to  me,  you  should  not  now  have  been 
sitting  drinking  of  this  excellent  usquebaugh  in  the 
company  of  your  betters.  I  speak  in  the  way  of 
friendship,  for  I  ever  like  to  be  honest,  and,  mark 
you,  I  mean  no  offence  in  the  world,  but  if  I  had 
my  will,  I  should  even  string  you  up  with  a  hempen 
cravat  round  your  neck  to  show  you  what  I  think 
of  your  principles." 

"  Meaning  thereby  that  you  would  hang  me  ?  " 
Gervase  said  with  a  smile. 

"  Ay,  that  I  would,  with  the  best  intentions  in  the 
world,  but  since  I  cannot  carry  out  my  purpose,  I 
will  even  drink  with  you  or  fight  with  you,  as  you 
will." 

"  I  should  stand  no  chance  with  you  either  way,  I  am 
afraid;  but  I  am  very  tired  and  with  your  permis- 
sion," —  and  here  Gervase  offered  to  rise. 


OF  THE   RESCUE   FROM   GREAT   PERIL.         I2Q 

The  other  clapped  his  hand  upon  his  sword,  and 
rose  to  his  feet  with  a  drunken  stagger.  "  Nay, 
that  you  shall  not.  I  am  a  hospitable  man,  and  none 
shall  say  that  I  did  not  give  you  an  opportunity  of 
going  to  bed  like  a  gentleman." 

Finding  himself  thus  placed  between  two  fires, 
Gervase  unwillingly  resumed  his  seat,  and  watched 
his  truculent  host  growing  more  and  more  intoxicated, 
while  he  entered  into  a  rambling  disquisition  on  his 
own  fortunes  and  the  wrongs  of  his  unhappy  coun- 
try. He  did  not  doubt  but  that  the  time  of  deliverance 
had  come.  The  Irish  gentlemen  were  about  to  strike 
a  great  blow  for  freedom  and  for  James  Stuart, 
though  they  cared  not  a  whit  for  the  quarrel,  but 
he  served  their  purpose  as  well  as  another.  For 
the  pestilent  heretics  in  Londonderry,  they  would 
be  taught  a  wholesome  lesson :  they  would  be  made 
a  warning  to  all  traitors.  His  father  was  a  man  in 
Cromwell's  day.  Then  his  talk  grew  more  and  more 
incoherent,  and  finally,  with  his  head  fallen  upon  his 
arms,  and  the  contents  of  the  overturned  measure 
streaming  over  the  table,  he  fell  fast  asleep.  Gervase 
then  rose  and  sought  his  own  bed,  glad  that,  after 
all,  the  night  had  passed  so  amicably. 


CHAPTER  VHI. 

OF  THE   RETURN   TO  THE   CITY. 

COLONEL  SARSFIELD  more  than  fulfilled  the  promise 
he  had  made.  Seeing  that  Dorothy  had  set  her 
heart  upon  joining  her  friends  in  Londonderry,  he 
had  accompanied  her  part  of  the  way  himself,  and 
had  provided  her  with  an  escort  for  the  remainder  of 
her  journey.  To  Gervase  he  had  shown  unaffected 
kindness.  He  had  provided  him  with  a  horse  and 
apparel  befitting  his  condition,  and  at  parting  had 
wrung  his  hand  with  an  appearance  of  great  warmth 
and  friendship. 

"  It  is  right,  perhaps, "  he  had  said,  "  that  we 
should  be  on  different  sides  of  this  quarrel,  but  we 
can  part  with  mutual  good-will.  I  have  but  one 
hope  and  one  thought — to  see  my  country  once 
more  a  nation,  great  and  free.  I  would  that  all  our 
people  were  of  one  mind,  and  were  striking  to- 
gether for  their  fatherland.  But  it  is  still  our  curse  to 
be  divided — torn  and  rent  by  civil  feuds.  But 
believe  me  when  I  say  that  Patrick  Sarsfield  has 
only  one  desire  on  earth,  and  that  is  that  his  country 
should  have  her  own  laws  and  her  own  government, 
and  freedom  for  the  meanest.  I  think  I  shall  meet 
my  fate  on  the  field  of  battle,  but  I  hope  not 


OF  THE  RETURN   TO   THE   CITY.  131 

before  I  have  seen  that  splendid  day.  Think 
well  of  us,  Mr.  Orme,  and  though  you  do  your  duty 
on  your  own  side,  remember  that  there  are  among 
us  those  whose  cause  is  sacred  in  their  eyes,  and 
whose  country  is  dearer  to  them  than  their  lifeblood. " 

They  never  met  again,  but  Gervase  felt  in  after 
days  that  there  was  one  man  in  Ireland  who  might 
have  saved  his  cause,  had  he  not  been  checked  by 
narrow  prejudices  and  the  bitter  envy  of  those  who 
did  not  understand  his  proud  and  chivalrous  nature. 
At  Limerick  that  fiery  spirit  blazed  out  for  a  while 
in  all  its  native  strength,  but  his  cause  was  already 
doomed. 

When  Gervase  had  reached  Londonderry  in  safety, 
and  had  seen  Dorothy  placed  under  the  protection 
of  her  aunt,  he  returned  to  his  old  lodgings  over 
a  linendraper's  shop  in  a  small  house  near  the 
Bishop's- gate. 

In  the  meantime,  memorable  events  had  transpired 
in  his  absence.  The  Irish  army,  breaking  through 
the  defences  of  the  Bann,  had  pressed  on  toward 
Londonderry,  and  having  crossed  the  Finn,  had 
closed  upon  the  city.  Colonel  Lundy,  whetherthrough 
vacillation  and  cowardice  or  from  deliberate  treachery, 
had  made  no  effort  to  oppose  their  approach,  and 
had  done  his  best  to  secure  the  surrender  of  the  city. 
At  the  very  moment  when  he  was  about  to  carry 
out  his  designs,  the  citizens  awakened  to  his 
intentions,  and  took  the  authority  into  their  own 
hands.  They  seized  the  keys  and  took  possession 
of  the  walls;  a  new  government  was  established  in 


132  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

the  city;  the  garrison  was  divided  into  regiments, 
and  preparations  were  made  to  stand  a  long  and 
stubborn  siege. 

A  great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  city  and 
in  the  spirit  of  the  citizens  since  Gervase  had  ridden 
out  of  the  gate,  a  fortnight  before.  The  old  look  of 
dejection  and  irresolution  had  disappeared;  one  of 
unbounded  enthusiasm  and  zeal  had  taken  its  place. 
Every  able-bodied  man  carried  arms  and  bore  him- 
self like  a  soldier.  Swords  clanked  on  the  causeway ; 
rusty  muskets  had  been  furbished  up,  and  gentlemen 
and  yeomen  alike  were  filled  with  the  same  ardour, 
and  wore  the  same  determined  air.  Every  regiment 
had  its  post.  On  the  ramparts  the  guards  were 
posted  at  regular  intervals;  little  knots  of  armed 
and  resolute  men  were  gathered  in  the  great  square, 
and  companies  were  being  drilled  from  morning 
till  night  in  the  Bogside.  A  spirit  of  unyielding 
loyalty  filled  the  air.  The  paving  stones  had  been 
raised  from  the  streets  and  were  carried  to  the 
walls;  blinds  had  been  erected  to  screen  the  men 
on  the  ramparts.  From  the  grey  Cathedral  tower 
two  guns  looked  down  on  the  Waterside,  and  on 
every  bastion  were  others  ready  for  use.  At  the 
Market  house  also  cannon  were  planted  to  sweep 
the  streets.  At  every  gate  there  was  a  great  gun. 

The  siege  had  indeed  commenced.  Yonder  beyond 
the  Foyle  lay  Lord  Lumley's  command,  three  thousand 
strong,  the  white  tents  catching  the  last  gleam  of 
the  sunset  as  the  evening  mists  crept  up  the  river. 
At  Brookhall  and  Penny  burn  Mill  was  a  strong 


OF  THE   RETURN   TO   THE   CITY.  133 

force  that  shut  off  communication  with  Culmore. 
Away  towards  St.  Johnston's  and  Carrigans  was 
the  main  army  of  the  enemy  under  Eustace  and 
Ramsay.  From  the  heights  of  Clooney  one  could 
see  at  long  intervals  a  swift  leap  of  flame,  and  hear 
the  sullen  roar  of  a  great  gun  breaking  on  the 
evening  air.  All  thought  of  compromise  or  capitu- 
lation was  at  an  end;  here  the  citizens  must  make 
their  last  stand,  and  show  the  world  how  dearly 
they  held  their  faith  and  freedom. 

At  first  sight  resistance  might  have  seemed  a 
midsummer  folly. 

On  both  sides  of  the  river  the  high  ground  looked 
down  upon  the  city,  and  that  within  the  range  of 
cannon.  The  streets  clomb  up  the  gradual  slope 
toward  the  square-towered  Cathedral ;  the  walls 
were  low  and  might  be  easily  breached.  Still,  there 
were  seven  thousand  men  of  the  imperial  race 
within  those  walls,  and  while  one  stone  stood 
upon  another  they  had  sworn  to  make  good  their 
defence. 

Gervase  was  up  betimes  on  the  morning  following 
his  return.  He  had  seen  Colonel  Murray  the  night 
before  at  the  guard  house,  whither  that  gallant  sol- 
dier had  just  returned  after  a  hot  encounter  with 
the  enemy,  and  had  heard  from  his  lips  an  account 
of  their  first  skirmish  that  had  taken  place  that  very 
day.  Murray  had  promised  him  a  vacant  cornetcy 
in  his  own  regiment  of  horse,  and  the  prospect  of 
plenty  of  service. 

Gervase    buckled    on    his    sword    after    a   hasty 


134  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

breakfast,  his  mind  full  of  the  hope  that  a  high- 
spirited  young -fellow  naturally  indulges  in  at  such 
a  time.  His  imagination  had  been  touched  and  his 
heart  had  been  stirred  by  the  peril  of  the  situation. 
He  had  caught  the  joyous  enthusiasm  of  the  time, 
and  he  whistled  merrily  a  bar  of  Lillibullero  as  he 
went  down  the  crooked  stair,  and  came  into  the 
ill-lighted  shop.  The  door  was  lying  open,  but  the 
shutters  had  not  been  taken  down.  Trade  was  not 
of  the  briskest  of  late  days,  and  the  stock  was 
somewhat  meagre.  The  varied  assortment  of  wares — 
linens,  broadcloth,  and  laces — had  nearly  disappeared, 
and  the  little  linen-draper,  Simon  Sproule,  was  seated 
with  a  rueful  countenance  at  his  desk,  with  his  ledger 
spread  open  before  him.  So  intent  was  he  on  the  open 
page  that  he  had  not  heard  Gervase  come  clanking 
down  the  stairs,  and  it  was  only  when  the  latter 
stepped  forward  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
that  he  raised  his  head  with  a  startled  look.  Then 
he  jumped  up  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  God  bless  my  soul !  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr. 
Orme;  I  had  never  thought  to  have  laid  my  eyes 
on  you  again.  It  was  only  on  Thursday  I  was 
telling  Elizabeth — and  she'll  bear  me  out  in  what 
I  say — that  'twas  likely  your  dust  was  mingled 
by  this  time  with  the  clods  of  the  valley,  and  we 
were  both  grieved  to  have  lost  you. " 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  much  bound  to  both  of  you,  " 
Gervase  answered,  laughing,  "  but  you  can  see 
that  I  look  little  like  a  dying  man  yet ;  just  as  much 
as  you  look  like  an  honest  tradesman. " 


OF  THE  RETURN  TO  THE  CITY.  135 

The  little  man  surveyed  himself  ruefully,  and  with 
such  solemnity  of  visage  that  Gervase  could  not 
suppress  a  smile  of  amusement.  His  coat  of  claret- 
coloured  cloth  had  given  place  to  a  buff  jacket 
which  had  already  seen  considerable  service  on  a 
man  larger  than  himself,  and  he  was  encased  to 
the  thighs  in  a  pair  of  jack-boots  that  gave  his 
nether  extremities  a  very  striking  appearance.  On 
a  stool  hard  by  was  a  steel  head-piece  of  an 
antiquated  pattern,  and  leaning  against  the  counter 
was  a  musket,  the  lock  of  which  he  had  apparently 
recently  been  oiling.  The  bulging  forehead  with 
its  overhanging  tuft  of  red  hair,  the  nose  that 
providence  had  carefully  tilted  up,  and  the  blue 
eyes  that  always  met  you  with  a  look  of  mild 
wonder  in  them,  harmonized  but  ill  with  his  military 
equipment.  He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  These  are  but  ill  times  that  we  have  fallen  upon. 
'Tis  very  well,  sir,  for  a  young  man  like  yourself 
whose  trade  is  fighting,  to  go  swaggering  up  and 
down  with  a  long  sword  by  your  side  and  a  mur- 
derous weapon  like  that  in  your  hand,  but  for  a 
married  man  like  myself  with  eight  children  to  his 
own  share,  'tis  altogether  another  matter.  But  I'm 
a  loyal  man  and  a  good  Protestant,  and  I'll  even 
try  to  do  my  duty,  hard  as  it  seems,  with  the  best 
of  you.  " 

"Why,  Simon,  three  weeks  ago  you  were  the 
boldest  man  in  the  city,  and  I  remember  you  made 
a  great  speech  that  was  mightily  applauded!" 

"  Ay,    but   the  enemy  had  not  crossed  the  Bann 


136  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

then,  and  it  is  a  different  thing,  let  me  tell 
you,  when  the  bullets  begin  to  whistle  about  your 
head.  I  was  out  yesterday,  Mr.  Orme,  and  do  you 
know  " — here  he  looked  round  to  see  that  there 
was  no  one  within  hearing — "I  discovered  that  I 
was  no  better  than  a  coward.  " 

"  But  you  stood  your  ground  like  a  man  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  did  no  such  thing.  I  dare  not  tell 
Elizabeth,  but  no  sooner  did  I  see  those  devils  of 
Berwick  come  galloping  up,  than  I  even  ran  like  a 
coward  for  the  walls,  and  never  thought  of  my 
duty  till  I  was  out  of  reach  of  their  sword-blades. 
It  was  too  late  to  turn  back  then,  had  I  been  so 
minded.  God  hath  made  us  all  after  our  own 
fashion,  and  he  never  made  me  for  a  soldier.  " 

"  All  young  soldiers  feel  like  that  in  their  first 
battle,"  said  Gervase,  with  the  air  of  a  veteran.  "  A 
fortnight  hence  you  will  be  as  bold  as  a  lion.  Mistress 
Sproule  will  see  that  you  do  not  flinch,  for  I  think 
she  could  carry  arms  herself." 

44  You  know  my  wife,  Mr.  Orme,"  said  the  little 
man  sadly,  "and  that  is  one  of  my  main  troubles, 
for  I  dare  not  tell  her  what  I  have  told  you.  She 
must  needs  know  the  whole  story  when  I  came 
back  last  night,  and  my  invention  would  not  serve 
me  better  than  my  yard  stick  yonder.  Do  you 
think,  sir,  that  there  will  be  a  great  deal  of  work 
of  the  same  kind?  " 

u  In  faith,  Simon,  I  can  give  you  but  little  comfort," 
said  Gervase,  half  in  amusement,  half  pitying  his 
evident  distress ;  "  these  are  troublous  times  we  are 


OF  THE  RETURN   TO   THE   CITY.  137 

living  in,  and  hard  knocks  are  in  fashion.  You  must 
even  pluck  up  courage  and  show  a  stout  heart  in 
that  buff  coat  of  yours.  You'll  come  to  like  the 
smell  of  powder  by  and  by,  and  instead  of  running 
you'll  go  out  to  meet  them  as  blithely  as  the 
boldest." 

"  What  I  have  said  I  have  spoken  in  confidence, 
Mr.  Orme,  and  should  you  have  speech  with  my 
wife  on  the  matter,  I  know  you  will  say  a  word  in 
my  favour.  But  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  we  could 
see  the  end  of  our  troubles.  My  trade  is  even 
ruined,  and  there  is  a  list  of  debts  for  you  that  will 
never  return  me  the  value  of  a  penny.  Colonel 
Lundy  himself  owes  me  eight  pounds  sterling,  which 
I  do  not  think  he  will  ever  return  to  discharge." 

"  Indeed  I  do  not  think  he  will,  and  if  that  were 
all  he  owed  us  the  city  would  be  well  quit  of  him. 
Are  you  on  duty  to-day,  Simon  ?  " 

"  I  must  turn  out  at  twelve  o'clock  on  the  Church 
bastion, "  he  answered  gravely,  "  and  I  know  not 
what  devil's  work  I  may  have  to  do  before  the  day 
is  over.  But  I  will  take  what  you  have  said  to 
heart,  sir,  and  hope  for  the  time  when  I'll  have  a 
taste  for  fighting. 

"I'll  be  there  to  see,"  said  Gervase,  smiling,  "and 
should  it  give  you  courage,  I'll  even  blow  your  brains 
out  should  you  try  to  run  away. 

As  Gervase  passed  up  Bishop's-gate  street,  he 
could  not  help  laughing  aloud  at  the  look  of  con- 
sternation depicted  on  the  face  of  his  little  landlord, 
who  had  been  among  the  loudest  and  most  eloquent 


138  .  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

advocates  of  resistance  while  the  enemy  were  at  a 
distance. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  clear,  with  a  warm 
breath  of  spring  in  the  air  that  blew  across  the 
river.  The  streets  were  alive  with  men  hurrying 
hither  and  thither ;  men  who '  carried  every  imagin- 
able description  of  musket  and  side-arms,  and  wore 
the  most  diverse  kinds  of  defensive  armour,  but 
men  who  looked  as  if  they  had  a  work  to  do  and 
meant  to  do  it.  Four  companies  of  Parker's  regiment 
of  foot  he  met  on  their  way  to  the  Bogside,  and 
he  was  struck  by  their  soldierly  bearing  and  the 
precision  and  regularity  of  their  march.  From  the 
Royal  Bastion  a  great  gun  was  firing  slowly,  in 
reply  to  the  cannon  of  the  enemy  that  spoke  iron- 
lipped  from  Strong's  orchard  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river.  But  what  struck  him  chiefly  was  that 
there  were  neither  women  nor  children  abroad;  the 
city  looked  like  a  great  barrack-yard  under  arms. 

In  the  Diamond,  before  the  guard-house,  he  met 
Colonel  Murray  in  company  with  Captain  Ashe, 
and  Walker,  the  newly-made  governor.  Gervase 
knew  the  fighting  parson  of  Donaghmore  at  a  glance. 
The  tall,  burly  figure  and  frank  face  full  of  boldness 
and  resolution  spoke  of  action  rather  than  of  study, 
and  the  sword  that  he  carried  at  his  side  was  little 
in  keeping  with  his  clerical  calling.  As  Gervase  came 
up  he  was  engaged  in  an  animated  conversation, 
emphasizing  his  points  with  copious  gestures  and 
disregarding  all  interruptions. 

"This  is  the  young  gentleman  of  whose  adven- 


OF  THE   RETURN  TO   THE  CITY.  139 

tures  I  have  been  telling  you  but  now,  Governor 
Walker,"  said  Murray,  placing  his  hand  on  his 
arm.  as  Gervase-  doffed  his  beaver. 

"  I  am  pleased  to  meet  with  you,  sir,"  said  Walker 
with  a  fine,  pleasant  smile.  "  I  learn  that  your 
mission  miscarried,  as  I  doubt  not  it  was  intended 
it  should  by  those  who  sent  you,  and  that  you  alone 
of  your  party  have  returned  in  safety.  We  have 
now,  I  trust,  cleared  out  the  nest  of  traitors,  and 
brave  men  can  fight  without  fearing  the  treachery 
of  their  friends.  You  were  of  Mountjoy's  regiment, 
I  think?" 

Gervase  bowed  in  acquiescence. 

"  Then,  sir,  you  must  show  that  your  Colonel  was 
the  only  traitor  in  the  regiment,  and  I  do  not  doubt 
you  will.  Our  men  are  eager,  but  they  want  dis- 
cipline. I  am  no  soldier  myself,  but  I  have  set 
myself  to  learn,  and  we  want  you  gentlemen  of  the 
sword  to  teach  us.  You  were  not  here  for  the  fight 
of  yesterday?  " 

"  I  had  not  the  good  fortune." 

"  Tis  ever  ill  fortune,  sir,  to  be  in  a  fight,  but  being 
there,  'tis  well  to  strike  hard  and  stand  to  it.  You 
would  then  have  seen  what  it  is  our  soldiers  lack. 
Their  zeal  outran  their  discretion." 

"And  some  of  them  outran  the  enemy,"  added 
Murray,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "  but  I  have 
no  doubt  Mr.  Orme  will  do  his  duty.  Have  you  yet 
heard  anything  of  Captain  Macpherson?" 

"  Not  a  word.  I  fear  he  has  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy  or  we  should  have  seen  him  ere  now. 


140  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

He  is  not  a  man  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his 
feet." 

"  We  can  ill  spare  him  now,  for  a  stouter  soldier 
I  never  met,  and  one  with  knowledge  gathered  on 
half  the  battle-fields  of  Europe." 

"Was  his  heart  in  the  cause? — that  is  the  main 
thing." 

"You  would  not  ask  the  question  if  you  knew 
the  man;  Cromwell  won  Naseby  with  his  fellows." 

"  H'm !  "  Walker  said,  turning  away.  "  Captain  Ashe, 
will  you  walk  as  far  with  me  as  the  Town  House? 
Good-morning,  sir." 

Murray  stood  for  a  moment  looking  after  the  tall 
retreating  figure  of  the  old  parson,  and  then  turned 
to  Gervase  with  a  smile.  "  That  smacks  too  much 
of  dissent  for  the  Governor's  nose,  Mr.  Orme.  There's 
a  great  heart  in  yon  cassock  but  half  of  him  is  only 
a  parson,  after  all.  He  would  have  us  drilled  from 
the  pulpit  steps,  and  no  man  may  march  but  to  the 
tune  of  the  prayer-book.  A  very  good  tune  too, 
but  every  man  can't  step  to  the  time.  But  I  wonder 
how  it  has  gone  with  your  old  captain — I  wouldn't 
lose  Macpherson  for  a  regiment." 

"I  spent  a  fortnight  in  his  company,"  said  Ger- 
vase, "  and  none  can  know  his  worth  better  than  I  do." 

"  He  will  need  to  make  haste  if  he  is  alive.  In 
a  week  not  a  mouse  could  creep  into  the  city.  Even 
now,  you  can  see  how  the  enemy's  lines  are  drawn 
round  us,  and  I  can  hardly  hope  he  will  get  through. 
And  they  will  draw  them  closer  yet,  for  they  will 
have  to  starve  us  out;  storm  us  they  cannot.  Pray 


OF  THE   RETURN   TO   THE   CITY.  141 

God,  they  do  not  sleep  in  England.  Now,  Mr.  Orme, 
your  commission  has  been  made  out,  as  I  promised,  and 
I  would  have  you  carry  a  message  to  Colonel  Crofton 
at  Windmill  Hill.  We  have  much  work  to  do  to-day. " 

Gervase  found  his  first  day  of  garrison  life  full 
of  interest  and  excitement.  Apparently  satisfied 
with  the  sharp  skirmish  of  yesterday,  the  enemy  had 
not  attempted  any  further  offensive  operations,  but 
lay  sullenly  in  their  quarters,  or  employed  themselves 
in  exercising  their  levies.  Occasionally  indeed,  a 
great  gun  sent  its  iron  missive  into  the  city,  but 
the  artillery  practice  was  very  imperfect,  and  as  yet 
did  little  injury. 

At  Windmill  Hill  Gervase  found  four  companies 
under  arms  in  the  trenches,  but  the  enemy  never 
came  within  musket-range,  and  to  Gervase  it  seemed 
that  the  royal  army  had  very  little  advantage  in 
discipline  and  order  over  the  silent  and  determined 
men  who  sat  in  the  trenches  round  him.  Ill-armed 
and  ill-clad,  the  royal  troops  were  wanting  in  the 
fine  spirit  that  inspired  the  defenders  of  the  city.  In 
his  own  mind  Gervase  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
whatever  might  be  the  issue  the  struggle  would  be 
a  long  and  bitter  one. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  he  returned  home. 
Mistress  Sproule  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  like 
a  colossal  statue  of  domestic  virtue,  with  two  of  her 
eight  children  clutching  at  her  gown.  That  some- 
thing had  disturbed  her  equanimity  was  evident,  for  her 
lips  refused  to  relax  in  their  severity,  as  Gervase 
came  up  with  his  customary  salutation. 


142  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"  'Tis  a  pity  you  had  not  come  an  hour  ago,  Mr. 
Orme;  your  supper  is  gone,  and  your  friend  is  hardly 
satisfied.  One  would  think  he  had  not  broken  bread 
for  a  week." 

"I  had  bidden  no  one  to  supper,"  Gervase  an- 
swered in  surprise. 

"  Then  he  hath  bidden  himself  and  overlooked  your 
invitation.  Had  Simon  been  at  home,  I  should  have 
known  more  about  him,  but  he  stopped  me  short 
and  told  me  to  mind  my  own  business.  He  hath 
very  ill  manners,  and  says  that  no  man  should  reason 
with  a  woman." 

In  a  moment  Gervase  surmised  that  Macpherson 
had  returned.  Leaving  the  exasperated  matron  at 
the  door  in  her  growing  indignation,  he  rushed  up 
the  staircase,  and  burst  into  the  room.  Macpherson 
was  still  seated  at  the  table,  the  empty  dishes  ranged 
before  him.  His  long  jaws  were  leaner  than  ever, 
and  his  clothes  were  torn  and  covered  with  dirt.  His 
head  was  bound  up  with  a  handkerchief  which  was 
deeply  stained  with  blood. 

He  rose  up,  holding  out  both  his  hands.  "  I  met 
with  a  stout  resistance,  but  nevertheless  I  have  taken 
possession  and  wasted  your  commissariat, "  he  said, 
with  a  smile  on  his  brown  face.  "You  have  a  stout 
guard  below  stairs,  but  an  old  soldier  does  not  fear 
the  rattle  of  an  empty  musket." 

"You  are  a  thousand  times  welcome,"  Gervase 
said,  pushing  him  back  into  his  seat,  "and  all  the 
more  as  you  seem  to  have  fared  but  ill.  We 
thought  you  had  fallen  into  the  enemy's  hands." 


OF  THE   RETURN  TO  THE  CITY.  143 

"I  have  been  fighting  with  the  wild  beasts  at 
Ephesus  these  two  days  past,  and  since  we  parted 
I  have  not  tasted  food  till  now.  Have  you  brought 
the  lady  safely  back?" 

"  Ay,  safe  and  sound. 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,  I'm  glad  of  that.  The  thought 
of  her  hath  weighed  on  my  mind  like  lead.  I 
could  not  but  think  she  fancied  I  was  playing  the 
poltroon,  and  deserting  my  company  when  it  came 
to  the  push  of  sword.  But  I  could  see  no  other 
way  to  help  you  after  I  shot  yon  swaggering  ruffian 
through  the  head,  and  that  in  lawful  self-defence. 
They  were  a  score  too  many  to  deal  with  openly. 
Right  glad  am  I  you  brought  her  through." 

u  Having  looked  through  a  hempen  collar  by  the 
way, "  said  Gervase.  "  Let  me  tell  you,  Captain 
Macpherson,  it  needs  cool  courage  to  look  the 
hangman  in  the  face." 

"  And  the  rogues  would  have  hanged  you  ?  I 
had  not  thought  of  that.  But  in  truth  I  did  not 
think  of  you  at  all.  'Twas  the  brave  wench  that  I 
feared  for;  she  that  stood  up  before  me  in  the 
oak  wood,  and  with  the  look  in  her  eyes  that  I  never 
saw  in  a  woman  before — told  me  she  trusted  me. 
'Twas  like  the  handshake  of  a  comrade  before  the 
battle.  She  hath  a  fearless  spirit,  and  a  heavy 
burden,  I  doubt  not,  with  the  doited  old  man  on 
her  hands,  and  I  know  not  what  trouble  besides." 

"  That  burden  has  been  taken  away, "  Gervase 
said  soberly,  "We  buried  him  the  next  morning, 
hard  by  where  you  left  him." 


144  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"  You  do  not  mean  they  murdered  him?" 

"  No,  not  that ;  the  loss  of  the  treasure  broke  his 
heart,  and  hardly  had  you  left  him  when  he  was 
dead." 

Macpherson  rose  to  his  feet,  his  two  hands  rest- 
ing on  the  back  of  his  chair,  and  a  look  on  his  face 
as  of  one  stricken  by  a  great  fear. 

"You  are  jesting  with  me." 

"In  truth,  it  is  no  matter  for  jest.  Hardly  had 
you  gone  than  he  gave  a  great  cry  and  fell  dead. 
The  loss  of  what  he  loved  better  than  life  was 
more  than  he  could  bear,  and  he  never  moved 
again  after  he  fell.  Then  the  troopers  came  up,  and 
had  it  not  been  that  a  gallant  gentleman  proved  my 
friend,  I  should  not  have  been  here  to  tell  you  the 
tale." 

a  I  knew  there  was  a  curse  on  it, "  said  Macpher- 
son. "A  curse  on  it  in  his  hands,  and  a  curse  on 
it  in  mine.  A  day  and  a  night  I  carried  it  with 
me  and  all  the  while  I  felt  like  one  pursued  by  a 
legion  of  spirits  clamouring  for  a  man's  soul.  I 
could  not  rest ;  I  could  not  sleep ;  and  I  felt  that  in 
the  end  it  must  drive  me  mad.  As  I  lay  through 
the  night  in  the  bramble  by  the  river-side,  as  God 
is  my  witness,  I  could  see  through  the  lid  the  glint 
of  the  gold  and  the  shimmer  of  the  precious  stones, 
and  I,  who  never  feared  before,  quaked  like  a  school- 
boy at  the  birch  rod.  I  prayed  for  light,  but  I  could 
find  no  comfort.  Then  I  rose  up  with  my  load,  for 
the  girl  had  placed  her  trust  in  me,  and  come  what 
might  I  was  minded  that  she  should  find  me  faithful. 


OF  THE  RETURN   TO  THE   CITY.  145 

A  while  after,  I  had  some  fighting  to  do  which  raised 
my  spirits  a  little  and  let  out  some  unwholesome 
blood.  But  I  have  come  in  empty-handed  after  all, 
and  have  but  a  pitiful  story  to  tell  for  one  who 
boasted  so  bravely  of  his  skill  and  discretion." 

"And  the  treasure?" 

"  'Tis  safely  buried,  I  trust,  where  I  left  it.  You 
see,  it  happened  in  this  wise :  As  ill  luck  would  have 
it  I  came  on  a  sergeant  and  two  of  his  company, 
of  Gormanstown's  regiment,  I  think,  rifling  a  poor 
fellow  who  had  but  lately  fallen,  and  catching  sight 
of  me  through  a  tangle  of  briars  that  I  had  hoped 
would  screen  me,  they  called  on  me  to  stand.  I 
could  not  do  otherwise,  for  my  load  would  not  let 
me  run.  That  was  how  I  came  by  my  knock — a 
shrewd  one  too ;  but  for  them,  they  will  never  answer 
to  their  names  again  till  the  muster  roll  is  called  at 
the  Judgment.  I  must  have  lost  my. senses  for  a 
while,  for  when  I  came  to  reason  there  were  we 
four  lying  stretched  upon  the  road,  but  myself  on 
the  top  with  that  devil's  box  at  my  feet.  With  my 
load  under  my  arm. I  set  off  again,  but  what  with 
the  loss  of  blood,  and  the  enemy  gathered  round  me 
so  closely  that  I  could  not  see  my  way  through, 
I  even  crept  into  the  shelter  of  a  hedge  and  began 
to  consider  what  I  should  do.  Then  it  came  into 
my  mind  that  it  were  best  buried  out  of  sight  for 
the  present,  and  I  even  dug  a  hole  for  it  where 
I  sat  with  my  sword  blade;  and  marking  the  spot 
with  what  care  I  might — indeed,  I  have  the  record 
here — I  went  on  blithely,  with  a  great  weight  off  my 

10 


146  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

mind.  That  is  the  complete  history  of  the  venture, 
and  I  would  that  it  had  a  different  end." 

"  It  was  better  fortune  after  all  than  I  had  hoped 
for ;  but  how  came  you  to  get  in  ?  " 

"Oh!  that  was  no  great  matter.  Putting  on  a 
bold  face,  as  though  no  man  had  a  right  to  question 
me,  I  even  saluted  all  that  I  met,  inquiring  what 
way  lay  Butler's  command,  as  one  having  urgent 
business  there.  It  passed  very  well  till  a  meddle- 
some captain  of  horse  must  needs  take  me  under 
his  protection,  and  know  more  of  my  business  than 
I  had  a  mind  he  should.  I  lied  boldly  and  vehe- 
mently, which  is  a  matter  permissible  by  the  laws  of 
war,  and  having  brought  me  hard  by  our  lines  at 
the  Windmill,  I  even  knocked  him  down  with  my 
fist,  and  ran  for  it  as  fast  as  my  legs  would  carry 
me.  They  might  have  brought  me  down  with 
their  muskets  had  they  taken  time  to  aim,  but 
though  I  heard  the  bullets  singing  about  my  ears, 
never  a  one  touched  me,  and  here  I  am  in  no  very 
ill  condition,  after  eating  your  supper  and  thanking 
Heaven  for  a  merciful  deliverance.  And  now  let 
me  hear  how  things  fell  out  with  you." 

Gervase  told  his  story  with  little  circumlocution, 
but  dwelling,  unconsciously,  more  than  seemed 
necessary  in  a  plain  statement  of  facts,  on  the  cour- 
age and  devotion  of  Dorothy  Carew,  a  thing  which 
brought  a  twinkle  into  Macpherson's  eyes  and  a 
grave  smile  to  his  lips.  Indeed,  from  the  beginning 
to  the  end  the  adventure  was  hers,  and  the  young 
soldier  was  only  the  companion  who  had  shared 


OF  THE  RETURN  TO  THE  CITY.  147 

her  fortune  in  a  humble  way.  He  told  how  she 
had  won  the  heart  of  Sarsfield ;  how  she  had  broken 
down  the  boorish  ill-will  of  Luttrel;  and  how  she 
had  carried  herself  throughout  with  a  patience  and 
fortitude  that  a  man  might  envy ;  and  all  the  while 
Macpherson  watched  him  under  his  half-closed 
eyelids  with  the  same  grave  smile  upon  his  face. 
It  was  evident  he  was  no  less  interested  in  the 
speaker  than  in  the  narrative,  and  when  it  was  done 
he  rose  up  and  placed  his  hand  on  Gervase's 
shoulder,  and  bade  him  forget  that  he  had  spoken 
a  word  in  her  disparagement.  "God  hath  made 
few  women  like  her,  my  lad, "  he  went  on,  "  and 
had  I  met  such  another  in  my  youth,  I  might  not 
now  have  been  the  homeless  vagrant  that  I  am. 
Loyal  she  is  and  true,  if  the  face  and  the  eye  have 
any  meaning,  and  her  voice  hath  a  tender  ring  in 
it  that  might  well  touch  a  man's  heart,  even  if  he 
be  an  old  fool  like  myself —which  indeed  I  think  I 
am  growing.  I  have  come  to  think  of  you,  Gervase 
Orme,  as  a  son,  I  who  never  had  wife  or  child  of 
my  own,  and  I  think  here  is  a  woman  who  might 
make  your  life  happier  than  mine  has  ever  been." 
"Your  conversion  is  of  the  suddenest,"  Gervase 
said  smiling,  but  the  praise  of  Dorothy  brought  a 
warm  flush  of  pleasure  to  his  cheek.  His  love  was 
a  thing  so  new  and  so  incomprehensible  to  himself, 
that  he  preferred  to  dwell  upon  it  in  secret;  and 
besides,  he  felt  that  she  was  so  lifted  above  him 
that  he  dared  not  trust  himself  to  speak  of  her.  It 
did  not  come  to  him  with  surprise  that  Macpherson, 


148  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

whose  cynicism  he  regarded  as  a  matter  of  course, 
should  have  been  captivated  by  her  grace  and  spirit. 
It  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  But 
when  he  came  to  think  of  himself  as  her  lover,  the 
thought  of  his  own  unworthiness  grew  so  great  that 
it  seemed  to  raise  a  barrier  between  them  that  it 
was  a  vain  presumption  to  attempt  to  surmount. 

So  he  passed  lightly  over  Macpherson's  suggestion, 
and  assured  him  that  he  had  not  forgotten  the 
warning  that  he  had  given  him  before  the  journey 
began.  Then,  with  some  solicitude,  he  insisted  on 
his  having  his  wound  looked  to,  and  making  use 
of  his  own  wardrobe  as  far  as  it  would  supply  his 
wants. 

The  old  soldier  in  his  careless  camaraderie,  was 
at  no  time  loath  either  to  lend  or  to  borrow,  and 
after  his  wound  (which,  he  said,  proved  the  thickness 
of  his  skull)  had  been  dressed,  arrayed  himself  in 
a  clean  shirt  and  stockings,  and  then  lighted  a  pipe 
of  fragrant  Virginia,  to  which  he  had  been  for  some 
time  a  stranger. 

Gervase  in  the  meantime  had  with  some  difficulty 
prevailed  on  Mistress  Sproule  to  furnish  him  with  a 
second  supper,  and  as  she  placed  it  on  the  table 
she  cast  a  look  of  indignation  on  the  unconscious 
Macpherson.  She  watched  him  with  lowering 
brows,  blowing  a  cloud  of  smoke  in  his  placid 
contentment;  then  her  pent-up  feelings  broke  out. 
"  Marry, "  she  said,  "  there  are  some  folk  who  care 
not  what  trouble  they  make  in  the  world.  To  break 
into  your  house,  and  eat  up  your  meat  without  even 


OF   THE   RETURN   TO   THE   CITY.  149 

a  'by  your  leave',  may  be  manners  in  some  parts, 
but  here  we  call  it  by  a  harder  name." 

"In  some  parts  where  I  have  been,"  said  Mac- 
pherson  grimly,  "  they  have  a  bridle  for  the  mouth 
of  the  shrew,  and  lead  her  down  to  the  Market-place, 
where  she  stands  for  a  warning-  to  her  neighbours. 
Your  husband  would  be  a  happier  man  did  the  custom 
hold  here." 

Long  accustomed  to  an  easy  conquest  in  the 
domestic  battle-field,  she  was  staggered  for  a  moment 
at  this  bold  attack,  but  when  her  surprise  was  over,  the 
storm  broke  out  with  renewed  violence,  and  while 
Macpherson  placed  his  fingers  in  his  ears,  Gervase 
intervened  as  a  peacemaker  with  little  success.  It 
was  only  when  her  passion  had  completely  exhausted 
itself,  that  she  flung  out  of  the  room  with  a  tragic 
stride. 

"The  tow's  in  the  fire,"  said  Macpherson,  "Man, 
that's  a  terrible  woman.  Have  you  often  to  meet 
a  charge  like  that?" 

Gervase  laughed  good-humouredly  at  Macpherson's 
serious  countenance.  "  We  have  none  of  us  the 
courage  to  cross  her.  Poor  Simon  fears  her  more 
than  he  fears  the  bullets  of  the  enemy,  and  I  think 
I  am  somewhat  in  terror  of  her  myself.  But  she 
hath  her  virtues,  and  I  will  not  hear  her  wronged." 

"  I  will  avoid  her  for  the  future  like  the  pestilence. 
Now  finish  your  supper,  or  so  much  as  I  have  left 
you.  I  would  have  you  accompany  me  to  Miss 
Carew,  and  I  think  you  will  be  willing  enough,  for 
I  must  give  her  an  account  of  my  stewardship  before 


150  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

I  sleep,  through  how  I  shall  bring  myself  to  tell 
her  what  I  have  done  after  all  my  boasting,  I  do 
not  know.  When  one  has  a  man  to  deal  with,  he 
can  take  him  by  the  hand  or  by  the  throat,  but  one 
cannot  use  plain  speech  with  a  woman." 


CHAPTER 


OF  HOW  CAPTAIN  MACPHERSON  FULFILLED 
HIS  TRUST. 

LADY  HESTER  RAWDON'S  house  stood  not  far  from 
the  Cathedral,  something  larger  and  uglier  than  its 
neighbours,  with  a  stone  staircase  running  along 
the  outside,  and  the  lower  windows  heavily  grated 
with  iron  bars.  Gervase  and  his  companion  were 
shown  into  a  long,  low-ceiled  room  on  the  ground 
floor,  wainscoted  in  black  oak  and  looking  out  on 
a  small  garden. 

In  a  corner  of  the  room  stood  a  harpsichord  ;  a 
piece  of  fine  embroidery  lay  on  the  table.  On  a 
chair  by  the  window  lay  an  open  book  with  the 
pages  turned  downwards.  Some  spring  flowers  in  a 
vase  gave  out  a  perfume  which,  somehow,  Gervase 
came  to  associate  with  Dorothy,  and  brought  her 
vividly  before  him. 

Presently  she  came  in  herself,  clad  in  a  simple 
black  gown  without  any  touch  of  colour.  To  Ger- 
vase she  gave  her  hand  without  a  word,  but  with 
a  quiet  smile  of  welcome  on  her  lips,  and  then  she 
turned  to  Macpherson,  who  stood  drawn  up  to  his  full 
height,  with  his  hat  under  his  left  arm  and  his  hand 
resting  on  his  sword  hilt.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see 


152  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

you,"  she  said.  "We  talked  much  of  you,  Mr.  Orme 
and  myself,  and  I  never  doubted  that  we  should 
meet  again.  But,"  and  she  looked  at  him  with 
inquiring  sympathy,  "  you  have  been  wounded? " 

"A  mere  scratch,"  he  answered  hastily.  "And 
before  I  go  further,  you  will  let  a  rough  old  soldier 
say  a  word,  Miss  Carevv  ? — though  he  cannot  speak 
fairly,  and  in  set  terms  such  as  please  a  woman. 
When  we  first  met  I  spoke  harshly  and  in  anger, 
for  which  speech  I  am  sorry  now.  In  my  rough 
journeys  I  have  had  knocks  that  somewhat  hardened 
me,  but  I  ask  your  pardon  if  I  have  in  anywise 
offended  you.  I  can  do  no  more." 

"  I  would  not  have  you  speak  of  that, "  she  an- 
swered; "I  only  remember  your  service." 

"  The  which  I  did  not  render  you. "  Then  he  went 
on  in  evident  perturbation :  "  You  see  before  you  one 
who  played  the  coward  and  betrayed  the  trust  he 
compelled  you  to  place  in  his  hands.  Had  I  to  go 
through  with  it  again,  it  may  be  I  should  have  done 
otherwise,  but  I  acted  for  the  best  and  followed 
the  light  I  had.  I  know  you  will  listen  to  me 
patiently. " 

"Surely  I  will  listen  to  you,  but  I  am  certain  you 
have  broken  no  trust  of  mine." 

Gervase  retired  to  the  window,  while  Macpherson 
went  through  his  narrative  without  interruption  and 
with  an  air  of  self-deprecation  that  he  seldom  showed. 
When  he  had  done,  he  drew  a  piece  of  parchment 
from  his  breast  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  On  one 
side  was  written  the  message  that  Colonel  Lundy 


HOW    MACPHERSON   FULFILLED   HIS   TRUST.    153 

had  commissioned  him  to  deliver  at  Enniskillen,  on 
the  other  a  number  of  lines  and  points  were  traced 
apparently  in  red  ink. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "that  is  the  whole  story,  and 
here  is  the  plan  on  which  is  marked,  with  what 
skill  I  could  command,  the  bearings  by  which  the 
spot  may  be  found.  I  could  indeed  walk  blindfold 
thither,  but  I  shall  not  be  here  when  the  time  conies. 
Perhaps  Mr.  Orme  will  follow  me  as  I  point  out 
to  you  the  meaning  of  this  scratch." 

Gervase  came  up  to  the  table,  and  Dorothy  and 
he  together  looked  down  on  the  red  lines  on  which 
the  old  soldier  had  placed  his  forefinger.  Then  she 
looked  up  hastily:  "  With  what  have  you  done 
this  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Even  with  the  first  ink  that  came  to  my  hand ; 
'tis  none  the  less  plain  for  that.  Now,"  he  continued, 
"here  is  the  way  from  the  city,  and  here  are  the 
cross-roads  which  you  cannot  miss.  Fifty  paces 
further  from  that  point  bring  you  to  a  sycamore. 
Ten  steps  due  west  is  the  hedge,  traced  thus.  And 
there  at  the  foot  of  the  wild  apple-tree  you  will 
find  the  hole  I  digged.  'Tis  covered  with  a  flat 
stone  and  concealed  by  bracken,  but  by  those  who 
know  the  sign  cannot  be  missed." 

"  And  I  hope,"  said  Dorothy  calmly,  looking  up 
in  Macpherson's  face,  "  that  it  will  never  be  found. 
Let  it  lie  buried  there  for  ever.  Never  let  me  look 
on  it  again.  I  would  give  the  world  that  I  had  never 
seen  it." 

Macpherson  looked  at  her  in  wonder. 


154  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"  You  do  not  understand  me  I  know,  but  Mr. 
Orme  does,  and  I  know  my  secret  is  safe  with  him. 
Truly,"  she  added  bitterly,  and  with  a  certain  wild- 
ness,  "your  chart  was  well  written  with  blood." 

"  'Twas  the  best  I  could  do :  I  am  sorry  that  it  does 
not  please  you." 

"  You  mistake  Miss  Carew's  meaning, "  said  Ger- 
vase.  "  She  finds  no  fault  with  what  you  have 
done,  and  I  think  you  have  acted  discreetly.  But 
others  are  concerned  in  this,  and  she  must  not  act 
without  consideration. " 

"However  I  may  act,"  said  Dorothy,  "you  will 
promise  to  say  nothing  of  this  till  you  have  my 
permission;  neither  to  my  aunt  nor  to  my  brother. 
They  must  know  nothing  of  it  now.  And,  Mr.  Orme, 
I  know  the  favour  that  I  ask  is  great,  but  I  cannot 
bear  the  sight  of  this  now;  will  you  keep  it  till  I 
ask  it  from  you?" 

Gervase  consented  with  some  misgiving,  but  had 
she  ordered  him  at  that  moment  to  go  in  search  of 
the  treasure  single  handed,  'tis  likely  that  he  would 
have  done  her  bidding  cheerfully,  and  gone  without 
a  word. 

Having  no  clue  to  Dorothy's  meaning,  Macpherson 
looked  upon  it  as  a  piece  of  the  whimsical  extra- 
vagance one  always  found  in  a  woman,  and  was 
content  that  he  had  delivered  his  message,  however 
abruptly,  and  rid  himself  of  his  responsibility.  For 
himself,  he  had  no  desire  to  meddle  with  family 
secrets,  and  a  young  fellow  like  Gervase  Orme  was  a 
far  fitter  companion  to  share  the  confidence  of  a 


HOW  MACPHERSON  FULFILLED   HIS   TRUST.    155 

girl,  than  a  rugged  and  plain-spoken  soldier  like 
himself.  It  might  be  there  was  more  than  her 
grandfather's  death  in  the  matter,  but  whatever  it 
was,  he  would  avoid  other  people's  business  for  the 
future,  and  keep  the  beaten  road,  where  he  saw  plain 
ground  for  his  feet. 

"  Of  my  own  motion, "  he  said,  a  I  will  not  speak 
of  this  thing,  and  though  'tis  a  pity  to  have  the 
bonny  stones  and  brave  pieces  lying  in  a  ditch  side, 
I  would  not  for  their  worth  have  carried  them  a  day 
longer.  I  even  felt  like  Judas  with  the  forty  pieces — 
the  price  of  the  blood,  hanging  about  his  neck." 

Dorothy  shuddered,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"All  is  done  now,"  said  Gervase,  seeing  her  dis- 
tress, "  and  words  will  not  mend  it.  Captain  Mac- 
pherson  and  myself  must  even  make  for  the  walls  pres- 
ently, where  he  will  find  work  in  plenty  to  his  taste. 
The  guns  have  been  speaking  loudly  for  an  hour." 

"Nay,"  said  Dorothy  rising,  "you  will  not  go 
till  you  have  seen  my  aunt;  she  hath  been  most 
anxious  to  thank  you  for  the  service  you  did  me. 
She  is  seldom  able  to  see  strangers,  but  she  is 
something  better  to-day,  and  bade  me  call  her  before 
you  left." 

Macpherson  demurred  stoutly  and  insisted  on 
making  his  immediate  departure,  for  he  felt  by  no 
means  at  home  as  it  was,  and  foresaw  with  a  feel- 
ing akin  to  dismay,  an  interchange  of  meaningless 
civilities  with  a  silly  old  woman  of  rank.  But 
Dorothy  would  take  no  refusal;  Lady  Hester  would 
not  forgive  her  if  she  permitted  them  to  leave  without 


156  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

seeing  her,  and  she  was  gone  before  Macpherson 
had  finished  his  protest. 

"  This  is  what  comes  of  dealing  with  a  woman, 
Gervase,  my  son,"  he  said,  in  a  mournful  tone, 
apparently  still  meditating  retreat.  "I  had  rather 
face  a  clump  of  pikes  than  come  under  the  artillery 
of  a  woman's  tattle.  One  is  bound  up  hand  and 
foot,  and  feels  his  manhood  oozing  out  through  the 
pores  of  his  skin,  while  he  beats  his  brains  for  a 
civil  speech  and  looks  in  vain  for  a  way  of  escape. 
They  can  talk  of  nothing  I  have  knowledge  of,  and 
I  am  too  old  for  quips  and  gallant  speeches.  But 
she  is  a  brave  lass,  and  I  think  I  wronged  her,  so 
that  I  must  suffer  for  it  now  with  patience.  But 
for  this  Lady  Hester,  a  rough  old  war-horse  like 
myself  hath  other  business  in  the  world  than  to 
stand  like  a  page  in  a  lady's  chamber  and  hearken 
to  her  gossip.  For  young  fellows  like  yourself  it 
may  answer,  but  were  I  out  of  this— 

His  resolution,  whatever  it  may  have  been,  remained 
unspoken,  for  at  this  moment  Lady  Hester  Rawdon 
came  in,  leaning  on  her  nephew's  arm — a  frail  old 
lady  much  broken  with  illness,  who  received  Gervase 
with  a  show  of  homely  kindness,  and  strongly 
expressed  her  sense  of  the  good-will  he  had  shown 
toward  her  niece.  Motioning  to  him  to  sit  down 
beside  her  on  the  couch,  she  drew  from  him  the 
story  of  his  recent  adventure,  and  Gervase  seeing 
the  interest  and  pleasure  she  took  in  the  narrative, 
entered  at  some  length  into  the  particulars  of  his 
journey.  Regarding  the  Vicomte  de  Laprade  she 


HOW  MACPHERSON   FULFILLED   HIS   TRUST.    157 

made  many  inquiries — the  Vicomte's  mother  being 
her  half  sister — and  regretted  the  unhappy  state  of 
the  country  that  prevented  her  seeing  a  lad  she  was 
very  fond  of  in  his  youth.  No  doubt  he  was  a 
Catholic,  which  was  to  be  deplored,  but  religion 
should  not  weaken  the  ties  of  kinship.  He  was  of 
the  same  age  with  her  nephew  Jasper,  and  a  fine 
lad  when  she  saw  him  last.  That  was  at  Meudon, 
a  great  many  years  ago.  There  were  many  changes 
since  then,  and  she  supposed  that  she  would  not 
know  him  now.  These  were  dreadful  times  and 
tho  roaring  of  the  guns  frightened  her  beyond 
measure,  but  there  would  soon  be  peace. 

So  the  poor  lady  rambled  on.  All  the  while  her 
nephew  stood  near  without  taking  any  part  in  the 
conversation.  He  was  considerably  older  than 
Dorothy  and  very  like  her  in  appearance,  but  with- 
out the  expression  and  vivacity  which  was  the  great 
charm  of  his  sister.  Gervase  thought  there  was  a 
look  of  unfriendliness  in  his  eyes,  and  resented  with 
some  inward  heat,  the  supercilious  air  with  which 
he  treated  him.  Macpherson  had  stood  for  some 
time  preserving  an  awkward  silence,  until  Dorothy 
withdrew  him  to  the  window,  and  by  slow  degrees 
broke  down  his  silence,  till  he  suddenly  found 
himself  talking  with  great  ease  and  friendliness. 

It  was  many  years  since  he  had  looked  so  nearly 
in  the  face  of  youth  and  beauty  and  listened  to  the 
tones  of  a  girlish  voice,  and  who  can  tell  what 
secret  springs  of  memory  had  suddenly  been 
unlocked  ?  Certain  it  is  that  when  Gervase  and  he 


158  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

made  their  way  to  the  walls  half  an  hour  afterwards, 
there  was  an  undertone  in  his  voice  and  a  softened  look 
in  his  eyes  that  Orme  had  never  heard  or  seen  before. 

"  There  are  hard  times, "  he  said,  "  before  yon 
sweet  lass,  harder  than  she  dreams  of,  but  you  and 
I  must  help  to  make  them  easier  if  we  can.  That 
rambling  old  woman  and  that  gay  spark  of  a 
brother  will  be  a  poor  help  to  her  in  the  day  of 
her  trial.  I  like  not  yon  lad;  his  eyes  shift  too 
much,  and  they  are  ever  counting  the  buttons  on 
your  coat  while  you  are  trying  to  find  what  is  the 
thought  in  his  mind.  I'm  thinking  he  would  be 
glad  to  be  out  of  this,  could  he  carry  the  old 
woman's  fortune  with  him.  But  the  lass  herself 
hath  a  great  heart,  and  if  God  sees  good  will  make 
a  fit  mother  to  a  noble  race  of  bairns." 

But  Gervase  paid  very  little  attention  to  his 
speech.  The  presence  of  Dorothy  and  the  look  she 
had  given  him  at  parting,  so  rapid  but  at  the  same 
time  so  complete  in  perfect  confidence,  had  filled  him 
with  happiness,  and  given  him  food  for  contemplation. 
The  old  stories  that  he  had  read  of  wandering  knights 
and  heroic  paladins  had  come  to  be  fulfilled  for  him ; 
he  had  found  a  cause  in  which  to  use  his  sword,  and  a 
lady  who  was  worthy  of  his  devotion ;  and  so  a  golden 
vista  of  great  deeds  opened  out  before  him,  and  he 
saw  glory  and  love  at  the  end  of  it.  We  will  not 
quarrel  with  the  young  fellow's  idle  fancies,  but  leave 

him  with  the  girl's  last  words "  You  have  proved 

yourself  my  friend,"  keeping  him  awake  that  night 
and  mingling  with  the  substance  of  his  dreams. 


CHAPTER.  X. 


"WHAT  is  the  hour?" 

"  Somewhat  after  three.  The  bell  in  the  Cathedral 
struck  the  hour  as  we  left  the  gate.  'Tis  very  dark. " 

"  And  colder  than  frost.  .  The  wind  blows  from 
the  river  like  a  stepmother's  breath,  and  dries  the  very 
marrow  in  your  bones.  On  my  word,  Orme,  I 
thought  the  relief  would  never  come.  Here  have 
I  been  since  the  last  night,  getting  what  warmth  I 
could  from  the  shelter  of  the  rampart,  and  keeping 
these  fellows  from  sleeping  on  guard,  while  my  own 
eyes  rebelled  against  this  sentry  duty  and  closed  in 
spite  of  me.  I'm  sleepy,  and  hungry,  and  tired,  and 
am  going  to  take  a  lesson  in  swearing  from  wicked 
Will  Talbot: 

"Oh,  roll  me  down  the  brae  and  walk  me  up  the  hill, 
And  all  the  while  you  carry  me,  I'm  only  standing  still." 

"  'Tis  well  to  have  a  merry  heart,  Jack. " 
"  And,  prithee,  why  should  I  not  be  merry  if  I 
choose  ?  Who  could  be  sad  with  six  hours  of  guard 
in  the  twenty -four;  a  measurable  quantity  of  meat 
and  French  butter,  with  a  qualified  modicum  of  very 
thin  beer,  and  a  chance  of  getting  knocked  on  the 


160  THE   CRIMSON    SIGN. 

head  every  hour  in  the  day.  Is  not  that  enough 
for  one  man,  my  dear  Ajax,  or  will  nothing  satisfy 
you?  Here  we  have  been  for  a  fortnight  at  this 
work,  and  only  twice  have  we  measured  swords 
with  the  red-coated  ruffians  yonder,  who  prefer  to 
bowl  us  over  with  their  long  guns  and  bury  us  in 
the  mortar  yonder.  This  soldiering  is  but  dull  work." 

"  We  are  like  to  find  it  brisk  enough  if  all  that 
I  hear  is  true.  There  is  talk  in  the  camp  yonder 
of  a  general  onset  on  our  position  here  at  the 
Windmill,  and  when  I  left,  Baker  was  sending  a 
reinforcement  to  strengthen  the  guard.  Have  you 
heard  aught  in  front?" 

"  Not  a  mouse  stirring.  Did  I  think  it  true,  I 
should  even  snatch  what  sleep  I  could  in  the  earth- 
works here,  and  be  ready  to  stand  by  you  when  the 
knocks  were  going.  But  following  the  voice  of 
wisdom  for  once,  I'll  even  go  home  to  bed  and  leave 
you  to  enjoy  that  frosty  wind  by  yourself.  Should 
the  attack  come  you'll  find  me  among  the  first." 

Giving  a  brief  word  of  command  to  his  company, 
the  young  fellow  went  away  whistling,  and  left 
Gervase  Orme  to  his  solitary  meditations  as  he  paced 
up  and  down  the  rampart,  peering  out  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  devoutly  longing  for  the  first  streak  of 
sunrise.  Windmill  Hill  was  a  post  of  great  impor- 
tance and  in  some  measure  the  key  of  the  position. 
The  highest  point  of  the  river  to  the  south  of  the 
city,  it  entirely  commanded  the  town ;  and  only  a 
fortnight  before  the  enemy  had  made  a  bold  effort 
to  drive  in  the  guard,  and  entrench  themselves  upon 


THE   STAND   IN   THE   TRENCHES  l6l 

it.  In  this  they  had  failed  after  a  stubborn  resistance, 
and  since  then  the  position  had  been  strengthened 
by  throwing  up  a  rampart  that  ran  across  the  summit 
of  the  hill  almost  to  the  river.  The  guards  had  been 
greatly  strengthened,  for  the  recollection  of  the 
first  attack  had  taught  the  garrison  a  salutary  lesson 
which  they  could  not  afford  to  throw  away.  It  had 
become  a  thing  of  vital  importance  that  the  hill 
should  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and 
from  some  source — it  was  scarcely  known  what — 
they  had  learned  that  the  Irish  intended  to  attack 
the  position  in  force,  and  make  a  bold  push  once 
for  all,  to  secure  it. 

Six  weeks  of  hardship  had  had  their  effect  on  Gervase 
Orme.  He  had  grown  accustomed  to  danger,  and 
had  come  to  look  upon  death  as  an  event  that 
happened  every  day,  and  might  be  his  own  lot  to- 
morrow. It  had  come  to  seem  natural  now  that 
he  should  waken  up  in  the  morning  to  find  his 
sword  at  his  pillow,  and  listen  all  day  to  the  thunder 
of  the  guns  in  the  batteries  on  Creggan  and  the 
Waterside.  Successful  resistance  had  awakened  in  him 
as  in  others,  an  intense  enthusiasm  he  was  far  from 
feeling  the  first  day  he  had  stood  on  the  walls  and 
watched  the  white  tents  stretching  out  on  every 
side.  At  that  time  resistance  had  seemed  almost  hope- 
less; it  was  their  duty  to  fight  for  a  cause  they 
looked  on  as  sacred;  but  now  they  had  measured 
their  strength  with  the  foe,  and  they  had  proved 
the  valour  of  the  fighting-men  who  manned  the 
walls  and  lined  the  ramparts,  and  if  relief  came 

ii 


x62  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

while  there   was   a  barrel  of  meal  in  the  magazine 
they  would  make  good  their  defence. 

It  was  a  fine  thing  to  see  the  alacrity  and  courage 
with  which  the  rough  yeomen  and  citizens  went  into  the 
fight,  and  the  spirit  with  which  they  handled  their 
muskets.  Grumble  at  times  they  would,  for  horse 
flesh  is  but  poor  meat  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind; 
and  French  butter  (only  a  cheerful  pseudonym 
for  tallow)  and  meal  were  somewhat  apt  to  turn 
upon  the  stomach  of  a  morning.  But  even  the 
grumblers  did  their  duty,  and  the  cordial  of  religion 
was  dealt  out  in  plentiful  doses  in  the  Cathedral 
twice  a  day.  It  was  a  sight  to  see  Walker,  his 
duty  as  a  stout  Colonel  of  foot  being  laid  aside 
for  the  nonce,  mounting  the  pulpit  with  his  martial 
air,  and  drilling  his  flock  in  the  duty  of  resistance. 
When  the  sermon  was  over,  and  they  came  crowding 
through  the  door — men,  women,  and  children — there 
was  a  look  in  their  eyes  and  a  catching  of  their 
breath,  that  spoke  volumes  for  the  powers  of  the 
homely  orator  and  the  earnestness  of  his  appeal. 
There  was  indeed  nothing  wanting  to  inflame  their 
zeal  and  strengthen  their  pride.  The  Celt  was  in 
their  eyes  an  inferior  and  a  servile  race,  and  his 
religion  the  superstition  of  the  scarlet  woman.  On 
them  hung  the  fate  of  the  kingdom,  and  if  London- 
derry fell,  Enniskillen  must  also  surrender,  and  Ireland 
would  go  with  James  from  the  Cove  of  Cork  to 
Bloody  Foreland.  Their  brethren  in  England— 
so  they  said — would  not  let  them  die  of  want ;  William 
of  Nassau  was  a  soldier  trained  in  arms  who  knew 


THE    STAND   IN  THE  TRENCHES.  163 

the  importance  of  the  place  they  held,  and  he  was 
not  one  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet.  Any 
morning  they  might  rise  to  see  a  friendly  fleet  in 
the  river ;  and  they  fought  on  from  day  to  day  with 
the  roofs  crashing  over  their  heads,  and  the  first 
pinch  of  want  warning  them  of  what  might  be  in  store. 

We  left  Gervase  Orme  pacing  the  ramparts  with 
his  heavy  cloak  gathered  closely  round  him,  looking 
anxiously  towards  the  enemy's  lines.  There  was  not  a 
sound  to  be  heard ;  only  a  light  glanced  here  and  there 
for  a  moment  and  then  vanished  into  the  darkness. 
The  men  lay  in  the  trenches,  screening  themselves 
from  the  sharp  wind,  for  though  it  was  now  early  in 
June  the  nights  were  cold.  It  was  weary  work, 
this  waiting  for  the  morning,  for  a  light  that  would 
never  break,  and  an  attack  that  would  never  come. 

Then  Gervase  seated  himself  on  an  empty  cask, 
with  his  face  toward  the  bitter  east  wind,  and  fell 
to  thinking  of  Dorothy  Carew.  It  was  a  habit 
that  had  grown  on  him  of  late,  for  it  was  wonder- 
ful how  it  shortened  the  hours,  and  relieved  the 
tedium  of  his  guard.  He  had  seen  her  frequently 
during  the  last  six  weeks,  and  though  no  word  of 
love  had  ever  been  spoken  between  them,  he 
had  striven  to  show  her  that  he  looked  on  her  as 
something  more  than  a  friend,  and  he  thought  that, 
though  with  maidenly  reserve,  she  returned  his 
aifection.  He  was  seldom  able  to  see  her  alone, 
for  Lady  Hester  was  always  anxious  to  see  the 
young  soldier  fresh  from  duty  with  his  news  of 
how  the  siege  was  going ;  and  though  Gervase  often 


1 64  THE   CRIMSON  SIGN. 

longed  for  a  tender  tete-a-tete  he  seldom  managed 
to  secure  it.  How  he  had  come  to  evoke  the  ill- 
will  of  Jasper  Carew  he  did  not  know,  but  the  lat- 
ter took  little  pains  to  conceal  his  enmity  and  on 
more  than  one  occasion,  only  the  presence  of  his 
sister  prevented  Gervase  from  coming  to  an  open 
breach  with  him.  He  took  no  part  in  the  defence, 
and  openly  laughed  at  his  sister's  zeal.  And  yet 
Gervase  knew  that  he  was  no  coward,  for  he  had 
come  through  several  affairs  of  honour,  and  pinked 
his  man  very  creditably.  But  however  much  Ger- 
vase might  have  desired  his  friendship,  he  saw  no 
other  way  to  peace  than  to  avoid  him  so  far  as  he 
could,  and  lef  his  gibes  pass  unnoticed  when  they 
met.  He  could  see  that  Dorothy  was  anxious  to 
atone  for  her  brother's  coldness,  and  that  was  in 
itself  compensation  enough.  And  as  Gervase  sat 
on  his  cask,  and  drew  his  cloak  closer  about  him, 
he  saw  again  the  tender  smile  in  her  eyes  and  felt 
the  pressure  of  her  hand.  What  mattered  this 
dreary  guard  and  the  long  watching  and  the  hard- 
ship of  his  life,  if  she  loved  him  ? 

So  wrapped  up  was  he  in  his  meditations  that 
the  sky  was  all  flecked  with  gray  and  barred  with 
red,  and  the  morning  wind  was  blowing  round  him, 
before  he  awakened  from  his  dream.  The  men  of 
his  company  were  walking  in  twos  and  threes  below 
him,  or  were  still  lying  crouched  under  the  shelter  of 
the  ramparts.  He  himself  was  numb  and  stiff  with 
cold,  and  as  he  rose  to  stretch  his  limbs  his  eye  caught 
sight  of  the  grey  tents  in  the  valley  below  him. 


THE     STAND  IN  THE  TRENCHES.  165 

The  clear  note  of  a  solitary  bugle  was  sounding- 
fitfully.  The  camp  was  already  astir,  and  away  to 
the  left  several  companies  of  horse  were  moving 
rapidly  toward  the  strand.  In  a  moment  his  dreams 
were  dissipated  and  he  was  keenly  on  the  alert. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  a  great  body  of  men  were 
being  massed  in  the  hollow.  Already,  as  it  grew 
clearer,  he  could  see  them  gathering  round  the 
standards,  and  the  grey  glint  of  steel  came  fitfully 
through  the  morning  mists.  There  was  not  a 
moment  to  lose,  for  he  did  not  doubt  that  the  attack 
was  about  to  be  made  in  force,  and  if  they  were 
to  hold  their  ground,  it  would  need  every  available 
fighting  man  the  garrison  could  send  out  to  defend 
the  whole  line  of  the  rampart.  He  could  not  be 
mistaken;  .the  attack  they  had  been  looking  for  so 
long,  was  about  to  come  at  last. 

Leaping  hastily  into  the  trench,  he  collected  the 
men  of  his  command.  He  spoke  to  them  briefly 
and  to  the  point.  "  Now, "  he  said,  throwing  off 
his  cloak  and  drawing  his  sword,  "  Sinclair,  you 
will  make  for  the  City  with  what  haste  you  can. 
Tell  Baker  we  must  stand  a  general  attack,  and 
that  the  horse  are  gone  toward  the  river.  I  think 
the  grenadiers  are  upon  the  left  moving  toward  the 
bog.  You,  Bowden,  will  pass  the  alarm  along  the 
line,  and  I  myself  will  even  go  forward  to  recon- 
noitre, and  see  more  clearly  what  their  meaning  is. 
Now,  my  lads,  see  that  your  priming  is  fresh,  for 
we  must  stand  to  it  this  day  like  men.  " 

The    note    of    alarm    spread    rapidly    down    the 


1 66  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

ramparts,  and  wherever  the  little  companies  were 
gathered  the  excitement  grew  deep  and  strong,  and 
preparations  were  made  for  the  coming  struggle. 
There  was  now  no  longer  any  reason  to  doubt  that  the 
enemy  were  preparing  to  make  a  general  advance. 
In  the  grey  dawn  they  could  see  dark  masses  in 
motion  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  and  hear  the 
drums  beating  their  lively  call,  and  the  note  of  the 
bugle  ringing  out  clear  and  loud. 

Dropping  from  the  rampart  Gervase  crept  down 
the  hillside,  taking  advantage  of  the  straggling  line 
of  defence  that  ran  zig-zag  down  the  hill  in  the 
direction  of  the  enemy.  As  he  drew  nearer  and  bent 
his  ear  to  the  ground,  he  could  hear  the  measured 
tread  of  marching  feet  and  the  ring  of  iron  hoofs. 
The  dawn  had  come  up  with  a  leap ;  the  light  was 
now  broad  and  clear,  and  lying  screened  by  the 
shelter  of  the  fence,  he  could  see  the  different 
regiments  rapidly  taking  up  their  position  with  as 
much  order  as  the  irregularities  of  the  ground  would 
permit.  What  their  strength  was  he  could  not 
rightly  estimate,  but  the  regiment  before  him  was 
Butler's  foot,  and  on  the  left  were  Nugent's  grena- 
diers. He  could  hear  the  hoarse  word  of  command 
shouted  down  the  ranks  and  the  rattle  of  the  firelocks 
as  the  men  shouldered  their  guns.  Already  they 
were  in  motion.  There  was  not  a  moment  to  be 
lost  if  the  rampart  was  to  be  kept  that  day.  With 
the  speed  of  a  deer  he  made  his  way  back  to  the 
lines,  calling  out  as  he  came  up,  and  took  the  deep 
trench  at  a  bound. 


THE  STAND   IN   THE  TRENCHES.  167 

"They  are  coming,"  he  said,  clambering  up  the 
breastwork ;  "  they  are  coming,  and  will  be  up  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  We  must  give  them  a  warm 
welcome  here.  Bring  out  the  powder,  and  remember 
to  fire  low;  we  are  not  shooting  snipe  to-day,  and 
must  not  waste  a  shot." 

He  looked  anxiously  toward  the  city  for  the 
support  that  had  been  promised,  for  he  knew  the 
little  body  of  men  who  surrounded  him  could  not 
stand  for  a  moment  against  the  force  in  front  of 
them.  But  the  city  was  all  astir.  The  Cathedral 
bell  was  pealing  out  its  warning  summons,  and 
already  a  stream  of  men  was  pouring  from  the 
Bishop's-gate  without  order  or  formation.  And  they 
were  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  the  enemy  came 
pouring  up  the  hillside,  a  dark,  crimson  wave  that 
seemed  to  undulate,  swaying  with  a  slow  uncertain 
motion,  as  it  advanced. 

The  men  stood  within  the  shelter  of  the  ramparts 
clutching  their  muskets  and  watching  far  below  them 
the  enemy  advancing  slowly  to  the  assault. 

"  I'm  thinking  I  could  put  a  brace  of  slugs  into 
yon  young  cockerel  with  the  feathers  in  his  bonnet," 
said  a  tall,  raw-boned  man  of  Down,  glancing  along 
the  barrel  of  the  fowling  piece  he  carried,  and  turning 
to  Gervase  with  an  inquiring  look.  "  It  were  a 
pity  not  to  let  them  have  a  foretaste  of  what  they'll 
get  by  and  by." 

"  You  must  not  draw  a  trigger  till  they  are  close 
up;  then  you  may  bring  him  down  if  you  will. 
God  be  praised!  here  come  the  reinforcements.  I'm 


1 68  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

glad  to  see  you,  Colonel  Baker,  with  all  my  heart. 
They  would  scarce  have  waited  for  you  had  you 
tarried." 

"  Tis  very  well  done,  Mr.  Orme.  You  deserve 
no  small  praise  for  your  watchfulness.  This  had 
been  a  serious  business  had  they  caught  us  napping, 
but  there  is  not  a  man  in  the  camp  yonder  who  is 
worth  a  pinch  of  powder,  and  they  come  on  like 
so  many  drunken  drabs.  Now  we  will  show  the 
rogues  what  they  may  expect  when  they  call  on 
honest  men  at  home." 

Rapidly  and  with  a  joyful  alacrity  he  drew  up 
the  men  into  three  ranks,  rank  behind  rank,  and 
bade  them  look  carefully  to  the  loading  of  their 
pieces,  and  not  to  waste  their  shot.  Then  he  directed 
the  first  rank  that  they  should  wait  till  the  enemy 
came  within  forty  paces  of  the  rampart,  and  when 
he  gave  the  word  they  should  fire  their  volley 
steadily  and  all  together;  that  having  fired  the 
second  rank  should  take  their  place,  and  that  they 
in  turn  should  give  way  to  the  third.  The  simple 
measure  was  easily  understood,  and  the  men  smiled 
in  silence  as  they  handled  their  muskets  and  waited 
for  the  word. 

"  The  women  are  coming  to  see  how  you  have 
done,  my  sons, "  Baker  said,  "  but  I  think  you  will 
not  want  their  help  to-day.  Yonder  fellows  are 
but  three  to  one;  you  could  spare  them  greater 
odds  than  that  and  beat  them  still.  I  would  wager 
a  golden  guinea  never  a  man  of  them  will  touch 
the  rampart." 


THE   STAND   IN  THE  TRENCHES.  169 

The  enemy  had  advanced  to  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  the  ramparts  and  then  halted  to  complete 
their  formation,  which  had  been  broken  by  the 
straggling  fences  of  which  we  have  already  spoken. 
The  silence  behind  the  earthworks  had  been  so 
complete  that  they  looked  for  an  easy  victory  over 
the  guards  on  duty  there.  It  was  now  broad  day, 
and  the  defenders  could  see  all  along  the  line  their 
enemies  hastening  to  the  attack.  With  a  loud  cheer 
the  latter  advanced  at  the  double,  and  were  close 
upon  the  ramparts  when  they  were  met  by  a  sudden 
spurt  of  fire  that  ran  simultaneously  along  the  line, 
and  by  a  shower  of  bullets  that  brought  them  to 
a  stand.  But  the  check  4was  only  momentary. 
Believing  that  they  had  now  to  deal  with  empty 
barrels,  they  sprang  forward  with  redoubled  ardour, 
and  were  within  a  few  paces  of  that  fatal  rampart 
when  a  second  time  the  leaden  hail  smote  them 
with  withering  effect.  They  halted  in  confusion 
and  fired  wildly  into  the  smoke-covered  curtain. 
Above  the  clamour  and  din  rang  out  the  voice  of 
Baker — 

"Steadily,  my  children,  they  are  nearly  satisfied. 
Advance !  Fire !  " 

And  the  men  of  Londonderry  with  sublime  faith 
in  their  captain  and  with  the  steadiness  of  men  on 
the  parade  ground,  took  their  place  and  gave 
another  volley.  Then  the  foe  broke  up  into  confusion 
and  lost  all  semblance  of  formation.  Many  of  them 
threw  away  their  muskets  and  made  what  speed 
they  could  for  the  rear;  while  others  encouraged 


170  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

by  the  shouts  of  their  officers  and  still  full  of  fight, 
made  for  the  ramparts,  and  leaping  into  the  trench 
climbed  up  the  curtain  with  muskets  clubbed.  But 
they  had  little  chance  of  success.  All  along  the 
line  they  were  met  by  an  enemy  flushed  with  the 
first  success  and  having  the  advantage  of  a  superior 
position.  In  some  places,  indeed,  they  succeeded  in 
topping  the  line,  and  a  hand  to  hand  fight  took 
place,  but  they  could  not  keep  their  hold  on  the 
ground  they  had  won.  They  were  driven  back 
into  the  trench  with  their  assailants  on  the  top  of 
them.  But  for  the  most  part  the  garrison  stood 
stoutly  by  the  ramparts,  meeting  their  enemy  with 
the  muzzles  of  their  guns  and  a  steady  fire. 

Then  Baker  turned  to  Gervase  with  his  face  all 
aglow.  "Should  you  live  a  thousand  years  you 
will  never  see  a  prettier  fight  than  that.  'Tis  over 
now,  for  we  have  taken  the  heart  out  of  them  and 
they  will  not  form  again.  I  pray  God  we  have 
done  as  well  elsewhere,  but  I  fear  the  horse  have 
pressed  us  harder  by  the  Waterside.  You  must 
not  tarry  here.  Away  thither  like  the  wind,  and 
tell  Gladstanes  that  I  can  spare  him  a  half  dozen 
companies  if  he  need  their  help." 

However  reluctant  to  leave  till  he  had  seen  the 
end,  Gervase  obeyed  and  made  what  haste  he  could 
down  the  line  of  the  ramparts  towards  the  strand. 
All  along  the  earthworks  the  men  were  standing 
steadily  to  their  guns,  but  down  by  the  river  the 
fight  was  going  hard. 

Two    hundred    horse,    gentlemen,    for   the    most 


THE  STAND  IN  THE  TRENCHES.       171 

part,  of  high  spirit  and  rank,  had  taken  a  solemn 
oath,  as  the  chroniclers  say,  to  top  the  line  or  perish 
in  the  attempt.  Gervase  came  up  as  they  were  about 
to  make  the  charge  and  delivered  his  message  to  the 
stout  soldier  who  commanded  there.  "  Not  another 
man  do  I  want,  "  was  the  answer;  "we  have  enough 
for  glory.  Now,  my  lads,  here  they  come,  and  let 
them  have  it!" 

Carrying  faggots  before  them  with  which  to  fill 
up  the  trench,  the  horse  came  on  at  a  gallop,  the 
steel  swords  and  scarlet  coats  making  a  gallant 
show.  Dashing  up  within  thirty  yards  of  the  ram- 
parts, they  suddenly  wheeled  to  the  right,  and  made 
for  the  open  space  between  the  rampart  and  the 
river,  intending  to  take  the  enemy  on  the  flank. 
As  they  came  on  they  were  met  by  a  storm  of 
bullets  that  seemed  without  effect,  for  barely  a 
man  went  down.  Then  Gervase  heard  a  familiar 
voice  call  out — the  deep  trumpet  tone  of  Mac- 
pherson :  "  They  carry  armour  under  their  gay 
clothes.  Aim  at  the  horses  and  we'll  take  the  riders 
afterwards. " 

But  the  order  had  come  too  late.  Already  they 
had  passed  the  line  of  defence  and  gained  the  open 
ground  within.  Hastily  clambering  out  of  the  trench, 
the  defenders  rushed  to  meet  them  with  pikes  and 
muskets,  in  a  compact  and  stubborn  body. 

Gervase  was  looking  about  him  for  some  more 
serviceable  weapon  than  the  small  sword  he  carried, 
when  he  saw  Simon  Sproule  making  prodigious 
efforts  to  lift  himself  out  of  the  trench  under  the 


1 72  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

weight  of  his  heavy  firelock.  The  face  of  the  little 
linen-draper  was  ghastly  pale,  the  perspiration  was 
running  in  streams  down  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were 
like  those  of  a  startled  hare.  Reaching  him  his 
hand,  Gervase  helped  him  to  his  feet. 

"  Now, "  he  said,  "  steady  yourself  and  play  the 
man.  If  you  attempt  to  flee,  which  I  verily  think 
you  do,  I'll  even  run  you  through  the  body,  and 
tell  your  wife  wjhy  I  did  it." 

"  Never  fear  for  me,  Mr.  Orme ;  I'll  stand  by  you 
like  a  man;  but  this  is  a  fearful  trade  for  a  citizen. 
D— do  you  think  they'll  run?" 

"We'll  do  our  best  to  make  them,"  answered 
Gervase,  picking  up  a  pike;  "follow  me,  and  do 
the  best  you  can." 

"Never  fear  for  me." 

The  horsemen  came  on  gallantly,  but  could  make 
no  impression  on  the  iron  wall  that  met  them  at 
every  point.  The  horses  went  down  in  dozens,  but 
the  riders  leaping  to  their  feet  still  strove  to  make 
good  the  vow  they  had  taken,  and  fought  with  a 
stubborn  spirit.  On  every  side  they  were  surrounded 
by  that  cruel  wall  of  pikes  and  scythes,  and  a 
spirit  as  stubborn  as  their  own.  Then  they  were 
broken  up  into  little  knots,  and  it  became  a  hand 
to  hand  fight  in  which  the  advantage  was  altogether 
on  the  side  of  the  garrison. 

Gervase  had  lost  sight  of  Simon  Sproule  in  the 
melee,  and,  indeed,  had  altogether  ceased  to  think 
of  him,  having  business  enough  of  his  own  to 
attend  to  at  present.  As  yet  the  fortune  of  the  fight 


THE  STAND   IN  THE  TRENCHES.  173 

hung  in  the  balance.  Back  to  back,  and  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  stood  the  men  of  the  garrison,  handling 
their  muskets  and  pikes  with  the  steadiness  and 
precision  of  veterans.  Never  since  the  siege  began 
and  the  first  shot  had  been  fired,  had  there  been  a 
fight  like  this.  It  was  dry  work  and  warm  work, 
and  Gervase  felt  his  throat  baked  like  a  kiln.  He 
heard  some  of  the  men  crying  round  him  for  water 
and  saw  them  go  staggering,  faint  and  exhausted, 
to  the  rear.  And  though  Gervase  did  not  see  it 
there  was  help  for  them  there.  The  women  of  the 
city,  who  had  been  watching  with  anxious  hearts 
from  the  walls,  could  bear  the  suspense  no  longer, 
and  regardless  of  the  bullets  and  cannon  shot  from 
across  the  river,  had  come  down  to  their  aid  with 
food  and  drink.  It  was  even  said,  and  the  chron- 
iclers record  it  with  a  touch  of  pride,  that  they  took 
their  share  in  the  conflict,  and  fought  with  stones 
with  as  bold  a  heart  as  the  stoutest  among  the 
men.  Certain  it  is  that  they  put  new  life  into  the 
weary  fellows  who  were  tired  of  hacking  at  the 
steel  breastplates  and  head-pieces,  and  who  for  the 
most  part  had  not  tasted  food  since  the  evening 
before.  It  seemed  to  Gervase  that  the  slaughter  of 
horses  and  brave  men  would  never  cease.  No 
sooner  was  one  down  than  another  had  taken  his 
place,  hewing  for  his  life  at  those  pikes  that  would 
not  bear  back  an  inch. 

"Stand  close  and  strike  home,"  a  voice  would 
cry,  and  a  little  knot  of  horsemen  went  rolling  to 
the  ground.  There  was  now  no  hope  of  escape  for 


174  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

them.  A  dense  phalanx  of  pikemen  and  musketeers 
had  drawn  between  them  and  the  entrance  to  the 
lines.  Back  to  back  each  man  fought  only  for  his 
life.  No  quarter  was  given  or  asked,  but  each 
man  went  down  where  he  stood. 

For  nearly  two  hours  by  the  sun  the  battle  had 
been  raging,  and  the  end  was  now  at  hand.  Ger- 
vase  had  been  carried  in  the  melee  down  toward 
the  river,  and  was  making  his  way  back  toward  the 
ramparts  among  the  slaughtered  horses  and  dead 
and  wounded  men,  when  he  saw  half  a  dozen  pikemen 
surrounding  a  dismounted  horseman,  who  was  mak- 
ing gallant  play  with  his  sword.  Anxious  to  save 
his  life  Gervase  was  about  to  interfere,  when  he 
heard  the  sound  of  his  voice  raised  in  disdain  of  his 
assailants';  fc  Five  to  one !  vcntre  de  Dieu,  I  care  not 
for  you  all.  A  gentleman  of  France  has  never 
learned  to  yield." 

It  was  the  voice  of  his  friend  De  Laprade.  Ger- 
vase was  just  in  time;  another  minute  and  he 
would  have  been  too  late.  Pushing  his  way  into 
their  midst,  he  warded  off  a  blow  that  was  aimed 
at  the  Vicomte,  and  loudly  commanded  his  assail- 
ants to  forbear.  Covered  as  he  was  with  blood 
and  grime,  De  Laprade  did  not  at  first  recognize 
him,  but  still  stood  on  the  defensive. 

"This  gentleman  is  my  friend,"  cried  Gervase, 
placing  himself  before  him  and  guarding  him  with 
the  pike  he  still  carried.  "I  will  not  have  him 
touched. " 

Then  as  the  men  fell  back  willingly  enough,  the 


THE  STAND  IN  THE  TRENCHES.       175 

Vicomte  recognized  his  deliverer,  and  flinging  away 
his  sword,  held  out  his  hand.  "  There  is  no  need 
for  this  now,"  he  said,  "and  I  could  not  surrender 
it  even  to  you.  This  is  the  second  time,  Mr.  Orme, 
I  have  to  thank  you  for  my  life.  I  grow  weary 
of  your  kindness." 

"I  am  very  troublesome  without  doubt,"  Gervase 
answered  with  a  smile.  "I  hope  you  have  not 
been  touched." 

"  Not  the  prick  of  a  pin  point,  but  these  men  of 
yours  fight  like  devils  and  against  all  the  rules 
of  war." 

"  They  are  learning  their  trade,"  Gervase  answered, 
"  and  you  cannot  expect  beginners  to  be  perfect. 
But  they  have  made  a  complete  rout  of  your  horse, 
and  left  but  few  of  them  to  carry  back  the  story 
to  the  camp.  They  have  got  Butler  yonder,  and 
are  carrying  him  to  the  town." 

a  Whither,  I  suppose,  I  must  bear  him  company  ? 
I  am  weary  of  the  camp  and  would  prefer  to  visit 
your  city  for  a  change.  You  do  not  eat  your 
prisoners?" 

"It  has  not  come  to  that  yet,  but  I  think  it  may. 
Now,  Vicomte,  if  I  can  do  aught  to  lighten  your 
captivity  be  assured  I  will  do  my  best  to  that  end. 
But  in  the  meantime,  I  must  send  you  in  with  the 
guard  as  my  work  is  not  yet  finished." 

"Put  yourself  to  no  inconvenience  for  me,"  said 
the  Vicomte  cheerfully,  "  I  am  quite  content. " 

Placing  De  Laprade  in  custody  of  the  guard 
which  had  already  secured  the  other  prisoners,  and 


176  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

telling  them  that  he  was  under  obligations  to  the 
gentleman,  whom,  he  hoped,  they  would  treat  with 
consideration,  Gervase  went  to  assist  in  looking 
after  the  wounded. 

Only  three  or  four  of  the  horsemen  had  succeeded 
in  cutting  their  way  back  to  the  camp,  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  congratulation  that  so  complete  a  victory 
had  been  won  with  so  little  loss.  A  great  victory,  won 
in  the  open  field  against  the  very  flower  of  the 
enemy's  cavalry  and  with  no  great  superiority  of 
numbers,  was  a  thing  of  which  they  might  be  fairly 
proud.  The  women  were  looking  after  those  who 
had  fallen,  many  of  whom  had  crawled  back  to  the 
trench  and  were  waiting  there  to  be  carried  to  the 
city.  A  crowd  of  soldiers  were  gathered  round 
their  colonel,  who  was  reading  them  a  striking 
homily  on  the  lessons  of  the  day. 

Gervase  did  what  he  could  for  the  brave  fellows 
who  were  lying  round  him,  and  was  about  to 
make  his  way  back  to  the  city,  when  he  came  upon 
Mistress  Sproule  looking  the  picture  of  despair. 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Orme,  for  the  love  of  God,  have  you 
seen  Simon  anywhere  ?  I'm  told  he  was  here  among 
you  in  the  very  front  of  the  fighting,  but  I  cannot 
find  him  yonder,  and  I  cannot  find  him  here." 

Then  Gervase  remembered  having  helped  the 
little  citizen  out  of  the  trench,  and  though  he  did 
not  think  there  was  much  liklihood  of  his  being 
very  forward  in  the  melee,  he  was  concerned  to  hear 
that  he  had  not  made  his  appearance  to  receive  his 
wife's  congratulations  on  their  successful  stand,  as 


THE    STAND   IN  THE  TRENCHES.  177 

he  probably  would  have  done  had  he  been  in  the 
land  of  the  living. 

"I  saw  him,"  he  answered,  "when  we  were  going 
into  the  fight,  but  1  have  not  seen  him  since.  Never 
fear  for  Simon;  you  will  find  him  safe  and  sound, 
I  have  no  doubt.  He  will  have  gone  back  to  the 
city." 

"  That  he  hath  not— he's  killed,  I  tell  you.  Had 
he  been  alive  he  would  have  been  yonder  where 
the  Colonel  is  preaching  his  sermon.  He  was  ever 
fond  of  preaching." 

Gervase  was  heartily  sorry  to  think  the  little  man 
should  have  been  knocked  on  the  head,  and  did  all 
he  could  to  comfort  his  inconsolable  spouse.  "  Come 
with  me, "  he  said,  "  and  I'll  show  you  where  I  left 
him.  We'll  make  inquiries  by  the  way,  and  you'll 
find  him,  I  warrant,  safe  and  sound,  as  I  say." 

But  no  one  had  seen  Simon  either  in  the  fight 
or  afterwards,  nor  could  anyone  tell  what  had  become 
of  him,  though  he  was  well  known  for  a  courageous 
and  eloquent  little  man,  ever  forward  with  bold 
counsels.  Then  they  came  to  the  trench  where 
Gervase  had  lifted  him  up  with  his  musket  on  his 
shoulder,  and  as  they  stood  there  looking  up  and 
down,  Gervase  caught  sight  of  a  figure  lying  half 
hidden  under  the  shelter  of  the  rampart.  Leaping 
into  the  trench  he  ran  down  and  bent  over  the 
prostrate  body.  The  face  was  lying  buried  in  the 
arms,  and  the  feet  were  drawn  up  almost  to  the 
chin.  Beside  him  lay  his  musket.  There  was  no 
doubt  of  his  identity ;  it  was  Sirnon  Sproule.  Gervase 

12 


178  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

was  almost  afraid  to  touch  him ;  then  he  bent  down 
and  turned  him  slightly  over. 

The  little  man  raised  his  face  with  the  fearful 
look  in  his  eyes  that  Gervase  had  seen  before. 
"Don't  hurt  me,"  he  cried,  "I  surrender  peacefully. 
Why,  God  bless  me!  Mr.  Orme,  is  it  you?  Is 
it  all  over,  sir?  and  have  we  held  our  own?  It 
hath  been  a  dreadful  day.  I  do  not  think  I  shall 
ever  walk  again." 

"Your  wife  is  here  to  look  for  you,  Simon, " 
Gervase  said,  with  a  gravity  he  found  it  hard  to 
maintain ;  "  she  will  look  after  your  wound ;  where 
is  it?" 

"Oh!  it  is  even  all  over — from  the  crown  of  the 
head  to  the  sole  of  the  foot.  This  hath  been  a 
terrible  time  for  me.  Thank  God !  Elizabeth,  you 
have  come  to  see  the  last  of  me." 

Raising  himself  upon  his  elbow,  he  looked  at  his 
wife  with  so  forlorn  and  piteous  an  expression  that 
Gervase  imagined  for  a  moment  that  he  was  wrong- 
ing him  by  his  suspicions,  and  that  the  little  man 
had  in  reality  been  wounded.  It  never  for  a  moment 
occurred  to  the  mind  of  his  wife  that  he  had  crept 
under  the  parapet  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  evil,  and 
it  was  with  grief  and  consternation  that  she  began 
to  investigate  his  injuries.  With  the  aid  of  Gervase 
he  was  lifted  out  of  the  trench,  and  though  no 
wound  could  be  found  on  his  person  that  would 
account  for  his  condition,  his  wife  continued  to  ply 
him  with  questions  which  he  as  resolutely  refused 
to  answer. 


THE   STAND   IN  THE  TRENCHES.  179 

"I  think,"  he  said,  after  a  while,  "I  shall  try  to 
stand.  I  thought  my  back  was  broken,  but  the 
feeling  hath  come  back  into  my  extremities,  and  I 
may  yet  recover  the  use  of  my  faculties.  Thank 
God  for  our  merciful  deliverance!" 

"Had  you  been  killed,  Simon,"  said  his  wife,  "I 
should  have  grieved  sorely,  but  it  would  have  been 
my  consolation  that  you  fell  in  the  way  of  your 
duty." 

"  Truly  that  is  the  case, "  her  husband  answered 
in  the  same  tone,  "but  I  have,  I  hope  and  trust, 
been  mercifully  spared  to  you  and  the  children.  I 
think,  though,  I  have  got  this  day  what  will  shorten 
my  arm  for  the  future.  I  even  fear  I  have  seen 
my  last  fight." 

"  I  am  thinking, "  said  his  wife,  whose  strong 
common  sense  was  gradually  overcoming  her  alarm, 
*  that  you  are  more  frightened  than  hurt.  I  would 
just  like  to  know  how  it  came  that  we  found  you 
in  the  trench  with  never  a  scratch  on  your  body  ?  " 

"And  you'll  know  that,"  said  Simon,  plucking 
up  heart  and  sending  his  imagination  on  an  airy 
flight,  a  course  his  mind  would  seldom  take. 

"  You  will  remember,  Mr.  Orme,  how  you  and  I 
were  even  plunged  in  the  thick  of  it,  with  those 
swearing  devils  swinging  their  long  swords  and 
cracking  their  pistols  about  our  ears.  I  saw  you 
borne  forward  and  like  to  come  to  evil,  but  I  could 
not  help  you,  strive  as  I  might.  I  had  work  enough 
of  my  own  to  save  my  head,  and  I  and  some 
others — who  they  were  I  know  not — were  borne 


l8o  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

back  here.  We  made  a  stout  defence,  but  I  was 
struck  or  pushed  from  behind  and  only  remember 
falling  back  heels  over  head  into  the  trench  thinking 
I  should  never  see  wife  or  children  again.  And  now, 
God  be  thanked!  we  have  gained  a  great  victory, 
and  that  let  none  gainsay." 

"  The  day  is  hardly  over,"  said  Gervase,  who 
could  not  restrain  his  amusement ;  "  they  are  still 
pushing  us  hard  in  the  ramparts  down  by  the 
Bogside,  and  I  heard  a  whisper  that  our  men  had 
been  driven  in  there.  If  you  feel  able  we  might 
go  thither  ,and  see  if  we  cannot  strike  a  brave 
blow  together." 

"  The  Lord  forbid — I  mean — that  is — I  have  had 
my  share  of  this  day's  fight,  and  so  look  you,  Mr. 
Orme,  I  say  with  all  courage,  I  think  I'll  even  turn 
my  steps  homeward,  if  my  wife  will  lend  me  her 
arm,  and  will  not  keep  you  waiting  here.  You 
are  young  and  lusty,  and  hot  blood  must  have  hot 
blood." 

Mistress  Sproule  who  was  herself  so  courageous, 
that  she  was  unable  to  suspect  cowardice  in  others, 
still  imagined  that  Simon  had  sustained  some 
internal  injury,  and  with  great  tenderness  and 
solicitude  took  him  under  her  arm  and  led  him  to 
the  city. 

This  was  a  memorable  day  in  the  annals  of  the 
siege.  The  men  of  the  garrison  had  fought  with 
heroic  courage,  and  only  in  the  intrenchment  by  the 
Bog  had  there  for  a  moment  been  any  doubt  as 
to  the  result.  There,  indeed,  the  defenders  had 


THE   STAND   IN  THE  TRENCHES.  l8l 

been  taken  by  surprise,  and  the  grenadiers  had 
gained  possession  of  the  trenches,  but  only  to  hold 
them  for  an  hour.  That  night  the  bell  in  the 
Cathedral  rang  out  a  joyous  peal,  and  hearts  that 
were  beginning  to  despond  took  fresh  courage. 

Starvation  and  disease  were  now  the  only  enemies 
they  feared,  but  as  they  gathered  on  the  walls  that 
night  and  shook  one  another  by  the  hand  in  joyful 
congratulation,  they  were  unable  to  foresee  the  horror 
and  despair  that  lay  before  them  and  the  suffering 
they  had  yet  to  undergo. 

Gervase  had  supped  early  and  was  about  to  retire 
to  bed,  when,  with  a  humble  knock,  Simon  Sproule 
opened  the  door  and  came  into  the  room.  "  Eliza- 
beth thinks  I  am  safe  in  bed,"  he  said  apologetic- 
ally, "but  I  could  not  go  to  sleep  till  I  had  seen 
you.  I  would  not  ask  you  to  strain  your  con- 
science, but  I  will  take  it  as  a  favour  if  you  will 
tell  her  that  I  have  done  my  best,  which  is  but  the 
plain  and  simple  truth." 

"But  how  can  I  do  that,  Simon.-" 

"With  a  full  heart,  sir.  I  did  my  best  though 
I'm  free  to  admit,  it  was  far  from  well.  I  can 
march  with  the  bravest  and  carry  my  musket  like 
a  man,  but  when  the  bullets  begin  to  fly,  and  I 
catch  sight  of  those  murdering  sword-blades,  the 
Lord  knows  my  knees  are  loosened  under  me  and 
my  heart  dies  in  my  breast.  And  all  the  while  I 
would,  if  I  might,  be  up  and  playing  the  hero,  but  I 
cannot.  Tis  a  fearful  position  for  an  honest  man 
to  be  placed  in;  my  wife  who  is  as  bold  as  a  lion 


1 82  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

itself  thinks  there  is  not  a  braver  man  in  the  city, 
and  the  neighbours  that  I  have  lived  among  all  my 
life,  cry  out  '  There  goes  the  gallant  Sproule, ' 
and  all  the  while  I'm  but  a  pitiful  coward.  I 
declare  to  God  this  life  will  kill  me,  Mr.  Orme, 
and  I  want  your  aid  and  counsel " 

"  Make  a  clean  breast  of  the  matter,  Simon,  and 
tell  them  how  you  feel." 

"  No,  that  I  cannot  do  now.  I  have  boasted  like 
the  Philistine  and  talked  loudly  like  a  man  of  war 
and  how  can  I,  who  am  an  elder  in  my  church  and  an 
honest  burgher  that  may  sometime  be  an  alderman, 
confess  that  I  am  but  a  liar  and  a  braggart.  I  could 
never  hold  up  my  head  again  among  my  neigh- 
bours; and  for  my  wife — no,  Mr.  Orme,  I  cannot 
do  it." 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  help  you.  You  know", 
and  Gervase  smiled  significantly,  "  you  have  been 
wounded,  and  such  wounds  are  ever  long  in  healing. " 

a  A  month  ?  "     Simon  asked  doubtfully. 

"I  trust  to  heaven  less  than  that,  but  even  a 
month  if  need  be." 

"  You  have  struck  the  mark  for  me  and  saved 
my  credit,"  cried  Simon  joyfully.  "'Twill  be  hard 
work  but  there  is  no  help  for  it.  And  you  will  lend 
me  your  countenance  as  far  as  your  conscience  will 
let  you?" 

"  Nay, "  said  Gervase,  "  I  cannot  be  a  partner  in 
your  fraud,  but  no  man  will  know  from  me  that 
you  are  not  as  stout  as  Murray  himself,  and  that 
you  have  not  got  a  wound  as  deep  as  the  well  of 


THE   STAND  IN  THE  TRENCHES.  183 

St.  Colomb.  I  can  go  no  further  than  that.  Now, 
Simon,  away  to  bed,  for  Mistress  Sproule  must  not 
find  the  wounded  knight  keeping  his  vigil  here." 
"  Remember,  Mr.  Orme,  I  rely  on  your  discretion,  " 
cried  Simon,  halting  for  a  moment  at  the  door;  "  and 
I  think  with  your  help  I  shall  be  able  to  save  my 
reputation," 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OF  A  SERIOUS  COMMUNICATION. 

THE  prisoners  who  had  been  taken  by  the  garrison 
had  been  for  the  most  part  confined  in  Newgate, 
but  several  gentlemen  of  rank  had  been  permitted 
on  giving  their  parole  to  dwell  at  large  with  private 
persons  in  the  city. 

Among  the  latter  was  the  Vicomte  de  Laprade. 
No  sooner  had  Lady  Hester  Rawdon  learned  that 
her  nephew  was  a  prisoner  than  she  insisted  on  his 
being  brought  to  her  house,  and  De  Laprade  will- 
ingly exchanged  the  confinement  of  his  prison  for 
the  society  of  his  cousin  and  the  comparative  freedom 
of  her  house.  With  his  ready  power  to  adapt  him- 
self to  his  circumstances  he  was  soon  at  home,  and 
his  gay  songs  and  cheerful  wit  enlivened  for  a  time 
the  gloom  that  was  gradually  settling  down  on  the 
household  in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  city.  But 
even  the  lively  humour  of  the  Vicomte  was  unable 
to  withstand  the  horror  and  distress  that  surrounded 
them  on  every  side  and  deepened  day  by  day.  The 
pressure  of  famine,  as  silent  as  it  was  terrible,  began 
to  make  itself  sorely  felt.  Pestilence  that  had  been 
lurking  in  the  byways  of  the  city,  spread  on  every 
side,  and  all  through  the  month  of  June  the  shells 


OF  A  SERIOUS  COMMUNICATION.  185 

were  crashing  through  the  roofs  and  ploughing  up 
the  streets.  The  hope  of  relief  that  had  burned 
steadily  for  a  while  was  now  growing  fainter  and 
fainter.  Early  in  June  three  ships  had  come  up  the 
river  as  far  as  Culmore,  but  finding  the  fort  in  pos- 
session of  the  enemy,  had  not  attempted  to  dispute 
the  passage.  And  again,  a  little  later,  the  garrison 
had  seen  from  the  Cathedral  tower  the  friendly  fleet 
far  down  the  Lough,  and  had  watched  them  with 
anxious  hearts,  till  they  saw  them  riding  of  Three 
Trees  in  the  western  glow  of  that  summer  evening. 
In  the  morning  the  sails  were  gone,  and  now  the 
enemy  had  thrown  a  boom  across  the  river  which 
shut  out  the  passage  to  the  sea.  But  still  the  men 
of  the  garrison  stood  by  the  walls  and  manned  the 
great  guns  and  handled  their  muskets  with  a  cheer- 
ful courage.  There  were  traitors,  no  doubt,  who 
deserted  to  the  enemy,  and  traitors  who  murmured 
and  plotted  secretly;  but  for  the  most  part  the  citizens 
stood  loyally  by  their  leaders. 

Gervase  Orme  had  suffered  with  the  rest.  He  had 
seen  poor  Simon  Sproule  bury  two  of  his  children, 
and  all  the  humour  out  of  it,  had  listened  to  the 
heart-brcken  little  man  declare  that  God  had  visited 
him  for  his  cowardice.  The  wasted  faces  and  hollow 
cheeks  that  he  met  began  to  haunt  his  dreams ;  it  be- 
came his  only  relief  to  lose  himself  in  action  and  forget 
the  horrors  he  had  seen.  His  visits  to  the  Rawdon 
household  lightened  the  gloom  a  little.  Dorothy  bore 
her  troubles  with  a  quiet  strength  that  put  his  manhood 
to  shame,  and  alone  in  the  household  declared  that 


1 86  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

the  garrison  should  keep  their  guard  while  one  stone 
stood  upon  another.  Since  De  Laprade's  coming, 
Gervase's  visits  had  not  been  so  frequent,  for  it  was 
now  impossible  for  him  to  find  Dorothy  alone  during 
the  day.  The  light  badinage  of  the  Vicomte  jarred 
on  his  nerves,  and  it  might  be  without  knowing  it 
he  had  become  jealous  of  his  presence.  For  the 
Vicomte's  admiration  of  the  girl  was  open  and  declared 
and  though  he  treated  her  with  a  quiet  deference, 
it  was  plain  he  would  willingly  have  surrendered 
his  cousinship  for  a  closer  relation  still.  Dorothy 
appeared  unconscious  of  his  advances  and  turned 
away  his  flattery  with  a  quiet  smile. 

Gervase  had  not  called  for  several  days,  and  had 
not  seen  any  member  of  the  household  during  that 
time.  He  was  surprised  to  receive  a  note  in  Dorothy's 
hand,  asking  him  to  call  upon  her  during  the  even- 
ing, if  his  duties  permitted  him.  It  was  the  first 
letter  he  had  ever  received  from  her,  and  though 
he  could  riot  surmise  its  cause,  his  heart  beat  some- 
what faster  in  his  breast,  as  he  pressed  it  to  his 
lips  in  the  quiet  of  his  room.  Yes,  it  was  Doro- 
thy's hand,  like  herself,  very  strong  and  free,  yet 
full  of  grace;  and  the  words.  "  Yours  in  confi- 
dence, Dorothy  Carew,"  sent  him  forthwith  into  a 
pleasant  reverie  full  of  tender  hopes. 

All  day  he  went  about  his  work  with  a  light  and 
bouyant  heart,  with  the  precious  missive  out  of 
which  he  had  read  so  much  carefully  buttoned  up 
in  his  breast,  and  did  his  duty  none  the  worse  for 
thinking  of  the  girl  who  wrote  it.  When  he  called 


OF  A  SERIOUS   COMMUNICATION.  187 

he  was  shown  into  the  room  by  Jasper's  servant 
Swartz,  and  Dorothy  was  waiting  to  receive  him. 

"  I  hope,  Miss  Carew,"  said  Gervase,  "  there  is 
nothing  wrong — that  Lady  Hester  is  not  worse?" 

"My  aunt  is  very  well,"  Dorothy  answered, 
"  but  a  little  nervous  and  excited.  This  is  a  trying 
time  for  her,  but  she  bears  up  wonderfully.  I 
did  not  think  she  could  have  endured  so  much  with 
so  great  patience." 

"  And  the  Vicomte?" 

"  Nay,  he  is  well.  My  brother  has  lately  kept 
much  to  his  own  room,  and  Victor  has  grown  tired 
of  our  society  and  joins  him  often  there.  How  they 
spend  their  hours  I  hardly  know,  but  I  think  they 
both  are  fond  of  play,  and  give  themselves  to 
cards.  Your  hours  are  spent  otherwise,  Mr. 
Orme." 

"Yes,"  Gervase  answered,  "but  you  see  I  am  a 
soldier  and  have  my  work  to  look  to." 

"And  why  should  all  men  not  be  soldiers  ?"  said 
the  girl  excitedly.  "  If  a  woman  might  carry  arms — 
but  this  is  wild  talk,  and  you  know  I  do  not  mean 
it.  What  news  is  there  to-day?" 

"Nothing  of  much  importance:  the  enemy  have 
hardly  fired  a  shot,  but  I  hear  there  is  talk  of  an 
expedition  to-night,  I  know  not  whither.  As  for 
the  ships,  they  have  not  been  seen  since  Thursday, 
but  the  wind  is  from  the  north  and  they  may  be 
here  to-morrow." 

"If  Colonel  Kirke  should  be  another  traitor?" 
Dorothy  said;  "one  hardly  knows  whom  to  trust." 


1 88  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"I  hope,"  Gervase  answered,  "you  will  never  find 
me  false." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall,  and  that  is  why  I  sent  for 
you  to  day.  Will  you  come  with  me  into  the  garden, 
for  we  may  be  interrupted  here." 

Gervase  followed  her  out  through  the  open  win- 
dow and  down  the  path,  wondering  what  confidence 
she  was  about  to  impose  in  him  that  required  to  be 
so  carefully  guarded.  They  came  to  a  little,  open 
space  of  smooth  lawn  where  she  stopped  short  and 
looked  round  her  cautiously. 

u  I  have  thought  much  of  this,"  she  said,  "and  I 
know  no  one  but  yourself  to  whom  I  can  look  for 
advice.  I  thought,  indeed,  of  Captain  Macpherson, 
but  I  did  not  know  how  he  might  act,  and  was 
afraid  to  trust  him.  What  I  am.  going  to  say  I 
speak  to  yourself  alone,  and  must  be  whispered  to 
no  other  till  you  have  my  permission.  Will  you 
promise  that?" 

Gervase  consented,  hardly  knowing  what  he 
promised,  but  seeing  only  the  look  of  entreaty  in 
her  eyes. 

"No  matter  what  you  feel  to  be  your  duty?" 

"  If  it  does  not  touch  my  honour  nor  the  safety 
of  the  city." 

"  Then  I  cannot  tell  you,  for  I  do  not  know. 
Surely,"  she  went  on  pleadingly,  "you  can  trust 
me,  Gervase  Orme?  I  stand  alone  and  have  none 
to  counsel  me,  and — and  I  thought  you  were  my 
friend.  Surely  you  can  trust  me?" 

"Every   drop    of  blood   in   my  veins  is   at  your 


SHK    STOPPED    SHORT    AND    LOOKED    ROUND    HER    CAUTIOUSLY 


OF  A  SERIOUS  COMMUNICATION.  189 

service,  and  though  it  may  be  weak  and  wrong  and 
we  may  both  regret  it,  I  promise." 

She  smiled  a  little  sadly,  and  said  with  a  touch 
of  her  old  humour,  "I  had  rather  you  had  not 
promised,  but  you  cannot  go  back  on  your  word 
now.  Do  you  think,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand 
to  her  breast  and  looking  round  her,  "  do  you  think 
there  are  traitors  in  the  city  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  think  there  are,"  Gervase  answered, 
"but  we  watch  them  narrowly  and  they  do  little 
harm.  They  would  stir  up  rebellion  if  they  might, 
but  the  Town-Major  keeps  them  well  in  hand." 

"  But  I  mean  more  than  that.  Do  you  think  there 
are  any  in  the  city  who  hold  communication  with 
the  enemy  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  there  are,  but  I  hardly  see  how  they 
could  carry  out  their  treachery.  The  walls  are 
strictly  guarded,  and  the  men  on  the  outposts  are 
faithful  and  true;  it  were  a  bold  thing  to  attempt  it." 

"Then  tell  me  what  you  think  of  this." 

Putting  her  hand  into  her  bosom,  she  drew  out  a 
small  scroll  of  paper  and  placed  it  in  his  hands. 
Gervase  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"  Read  it,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it. " 

Gervase  took  the  paper,  and  his  astonishment 
deepened  as  he  read: 

"'June  9.  Pass  the  bearer  through  the  lines. 
He  is  doing  faithful  service.  Given  under  our 
hand.  Hamilton. 

"  Miss  Carew,  where  did  you  get  this  ?  If  the 
man  who  held  this  paper  be  in  the  city,  he  is  a 


THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 


traitor  and  a  spy,  and  we  should  not  lose  a  moment 
in  discovering  his  villainy." 

"I  knew  you  would  use  words  like  these.  But 
there  is  something  more.  Three  days  ago,  Mr. 
Orme,  I  found  this  paper  on  the  staircase.  Now 
you  know  my  secret  and  why  I  sent  for  you." 

"  Perhaps  the  Vicomte  -  "  Gervase  began. 

"  Nay,  nay,  you  see  the  date,  and  my  cousin 
Victor  is  still  a  man  of  honour.  He  has  given  his 
parole,  nor  would  he  break  it  for  the  world.  It 
almost  breaks  my  heart  to  say  it,  but  I  feel  that 
this  is  my  brother;  I  saw  him  searching  for  it  where 
I  found  it,  and  he  would  have  questioned  me  about 
it  had  he  dared.  And  now  I  know  why  he  left 
his  room  at  night  and  seldom  returned  before  the 
morning.  What  is  to  be  done?" 

Gervase  knit  his  brow  and  stood  thinking.  If 
Dorothy  was  right,  her  brother  was  a  traitor  and  in 
the  habit  of  supplying  the  enemy  with  information. 
It  was  clearly  his  duty  to  report  the  matter  to  the 
authorities.  But  on  the  other  hand  he  had  given  his 
word,  however  rashly  and  inconsiderately,  from  which 
he  could  not  withdraw,  and  stood  pledged  to  silence. 
He  could  not  use  the  woman  he  loved  as  a  witness 
against  her  brother  and  destroy  him  by  her  hands  ; 
he  shrank  in  pain  at  the  thought  of  such  a  course. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  mysterious  midnight  rambles, 
the  passport  might  perhaps  have  been  explained. 
Hamilton  had  been  in  the  habit  of  giving  passes  to 
persons  in  the  city  who  had  interest  at  head- 
quarters, but  this  was  of  another  sort.  If  Jasper 


OF  A  SERIOUS  COMMUNICATION.  IQI 

Carew  was  the  bearer,  and  that  seemed  evident,  then 
he  must  be  a  traitor  in  active  communication  with 
the  enemy. 

"It  is  hard,"  Gervase  said,  "to  know  what  to  do, 
but  I  think  you  may  let  me  deal  with  this.  There 
is  no  need  at  present  that  any  other  person  should 
know  what  has  come  to  your  knowledge,  but  mean- 
while keep  the  paper  safely,  and  tell  me  if  your 
brother  leaves  the  house  at  night.  I  will  try  to 
save  him  in  his  own  despite,  and  for  your  sake  and 
his  own,  because  he  is  your  brother,  will  watch  him 
closely.  Remember  that  you  only  suspect  his  guilt, 
and  it  may  be  you  judge  him  wrongly." 

"  This  is  more  than  suspicion,"  said  Dorothy  hold- 
ing up  the  passport.  a  Shall  I  tell  him  I  have 
found  it?" 

"  There  is  no  need  for  that ;  we  cannot  undo  what 
has  been  done,  but  we  can  prevent  him  doing  harm 
in  the  future.  Do  not  let  this  grieve  or  distress 
you.  Your  brother  sees  things  in  a  different  light 
from  you  and  me,  and  while  circumstances  have 
kept  him  here,  his  heart  is  still  with  the  enemy.  He 
makes  no  secret  of  it." 

But  he  could  not  drive  Dorothy  from  the  simple 
fact.  "  But  to  play  the  spy !  To  steal  out  by  night, 
and  to  lie  hidden  through  the  day  while  brave  men 
were  fighting,  and  a  great  cause  is  being  lost  or 
won !  He  is  no  brother  of  mine.  Say  no  more  or 
I  shall  think " 

"  Only  this,  Miss  Carew,  that  as  long  as  I  live  I 
shall  not  forget  the  confidence  you  have  placed  in 


192  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

me,  and  I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  show  that  I  am 
not  wholly  unworthy  of  it.  This  is  no  time  or  place 
to  say  more  than  that.  If  it  were  in  my  power  to 
save  you  any  pain " 

"  I  am  sure, "  she  said  frankly,  "  you  would  do 
me  a  service;  I  know  you  are  my  friend." 

As  he  took  her  hand  and  led  her  into  the  house, 
she  turned  to  him  and  said,  "  You  must  not  ask  too 
great  a  price  for  all  you  have  done  for  me  when 
I  come  to  pay  you  the  debt  I  owe  you." 

"  One  word  will  repay  it  all,  "  Gervase  answered, 
about  to  forget  the  moderation  he  had  promised 
himself  to  observe,  when  she  suddenly  withdrew 
her  hand  and  entered  the  room  before  him.  There 
was  a  certain  restraint  in  her  manner  now  that  was 
foreign  to  her  native  frankness,  and  she  kept  Ger- 
vase strictly  to  his  budget  of  news,  and  prevented 
him  from  again  entering  on  any  personal  topic. 
Presently  they  heard  De  Laprade's  voice  in  the 
hall,  and  he  came  in  followed  by  Jasper  Carew. 

"  Ah !  ma  belle  cousin,  we  tire  of  one  another  and 
come  to  you  to  bring  us  peace.  M.  Orme,  you  do 
not  often  come  to  visit — what  do  you  call  it,  my 
cousin  ? — valour  in  tribulation.  " 

"  Vice  in  bonds, "  growled  Jasper,  looking  moodily 
at  his  sister. 

"  The  Vicomte  thinks  his  visit  is  growing  tedious, 
Mr.  Orme, "  said  Dorothy,  "  and  would  be  back 
among  his  friends.  He  has  now  exhausted  all  the 
gaieties  of  Londonderry.  " 

"  If  every  prison  had  so  fair  a  jailor,  "  answered 


OF   A   SERIOUS   COMMUNICATION.  193 

the  Vicomte,  "  I  should  prefer  captivity  to  freedom, 
but  my  jailor  prefers  to  leave  me  to  the  society  of 
her  kinsman,  whose  virtues  are  exalted  and  whose 
graces  are — what  you  see.  " 

Jasper  turned  his  back  and  walked  over  to  the 
window  where  he  stood  beating  with  his  fingers 
upon  the  panes.  In  a  few  minutes  Orme  walked 
over  and  joined  him. 

"There  is  a  matter,  Mr.  Carew, "  he  said  in  a 
low  tone,  "on  which  I  would  speak  with  you  in 
private.  " 

Carew  lifted  his  eyes  furtively,  and  looked  at  him 
with  a  questioning  air.  He  was  about  to  speak 
but  hesitated  as  if  in  doubt,  and  then  motioning  to 
Gervase  to  precede  him,  followed  him  into  the  garden. 

"  Now,  sir,  "  he  said,  turning  round,  "  what  is 
the  matter  of  mystery  that  cannot  be  spoken  before 
my  sister  and  kinsman?  I  think  you  take  too 
much  upon  you.  " 

K I  shall  pass  by  your  discourtesy,  for  I  have 
come  to  you  in  all  kindness,  as  one  anxious  for 
your  welfare.  What  I  wished  to  say  to  you  is  this, 
and  I  will  put  it  briefly.  The  night  airs  are  dan- 
gerous to  the  health,  Mr.  Carew,  and  should  be 
avoided  for  the  future. " 

Carew  turned  pale  for  a  moment,  but  the  moody 
composure  that  was  natural  to  him  remained.  Ger- 
vase could  see  from  his  eyes  that  he  would  have 
been  dangerous  had  there  been  a  fitting  opportunity, 
but  the  window  was  open  near  them,  and  De 
Laprade  was  watching  them  where  they  stood. 

13 


194  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"I  do  not  apprehend  your  meaning,  sir;  or  is 
this  a  further  instance  of  your  damned  imper- 
tinence? " 

"I  have  no  wish  to  be  offensive,  but  I  will  put 
,the  matter  in  another  form,  and  if  you  fail  to  take 
my  meaning,  you  must  yourself  take  the  consequences. 
It  has  been  said,  "  Gervase  went  on  calmly,  "  that 
there  are  certain  persons  in  the  city,  even  gentle- 
men of  rank,  who  are  in  correspondence  with  the 
enemy.  Rumour  is  ever  full  of  exaggeration,  but 
the  name  of  one  at  least  is  known,  "  here  he  paused, 
"and  others  may  be  suspected.  Perhaps  you  had 
not  heard  of  this.  But  remember,  sir,  we  will  not 
quarrel,  for  I  make  no  charge  against  you.  And 
again  I  tell  you  that  they  who  are  not  on  duty 
should  not  walk  of  nights.  " 

"  We  cannot  quarrel  here,  or  by  heaven!  I 
would  even  kill  you  where  you  stand.  " 

"  Neither  here  nor  elsewhere,  "  Gervase  answered 
imperturbably.  "  I  have  given  you  a  friend's  advice, 
with  all  a  friend's  sincerity,  and  wish  you  well. 
Your  prudence  will  direct  you  in  your  future 
conduct  " 

Gervase  left  him  as  he  was  about  to  speak  and 
re-entered  the  house,  where  he  shortly  after  took 
his  leave  and  returned  to  his  duty  at  the  outposts. 


CHAPTER  XH. 
OF  A  WARM  MORNING'S  WORK. 

THE  next  morning  Gervase  was  lying  longer  abed 
than  usual,  having  had  a  double  share  of  duty  the 
night  before,  when  he  was  awakened  by  the  sound 
of  Mistress  Sproule's  voice  raised  high  in  expostu- 
lation and  anger.  Of  late  she  had  lost  much  of  her 
alacrity  and  it  was  only  on  great  occasions  and 
against  those  to  whom  her  antipathy  was  strong, 
that  the  old  fighting  spirit  manifested  itself. 

"  The  poor  lad  shall  not  be  awakened,  I  tell  you. 
He  does  the  work  of  three,  and  you  can  see  that 
he  is  even  wearing  himself  to  death,  if  you  can  see 
anything.  When  he  first  came  to  live  in  my  house 
he  had  a  cheek  like  a  rose,  and  now  he  goes  about 
like  an  old  man  as  crossgrained  as  yourself.  This 
blessed  morning  he  will  have  his  rest,  if  Elizabeth 
Sproule  can  keep  you  out" 

Then  Gervase  heard  the  low  tones  of  a  man's 
voice  endeavouring  to  reason  with  her.  But  the 
honest  woman  was  not  to  be  driven  from  her  position. 
"  Not  for  all  the  colonels  or  governors  who  ever 
wore  sword  or  sash.  He  has  neither  wife  nor 
mother  to  look  after  his  welfare,  and  though  he  is 
a  gentleman  I  love  him  nearly  like  one  of  my  own. 


196  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

For  a  week  you  have  kept  the  poor  lad  marching 
and  watching,  and  you  are  one  of  the  worst  of 
them,  Captain  Macpherson. " 

Gervase  smiled  where  he  lay,  for  he  dearly  loved 
a  battle  royal  between  the  two,  in  which  the  victory 
usually  lay  with  the  weaker.  Macpherson  had 
gone  grimly  to  the  attack,  but  he  had  ended  by 
falling  nearly  as  much  under  her  power  as  her  husband 
himself. 

"You  are  very  right,  Mistress  Sproule,"  Gervase 
heard  the  voice  of  the  old  soldier  say,  "  and  though 
it  is  an  urgent  matter,  he  will  have  half  an  hour 
more.  You  are  right  to  be  careful  for  him,  and  I 
like  you  none  the  worse  for  your  watchfulness.  It 
may  be  you  will  let  me  sit  down  within  till  he 
wakens  ? " 

"  That  I  will  not.  And  you  may  even  go  whither 
you  came  from  and  tell  them  that." 

But  Gervase,  who  had  been  greatly  amused  at  his 
friend's  conciliatory  tone,  thought  it  time  to  interfere, 
and  called  out  that  he  was  awake  and  would  see  him. 

"  You  see  how  well  I  am  guarded, "  he  said,  as 
Macpherson  came  into  the  room,  "and  I  think  you 
did  not  dispute  the  passage  very  warmly.  The 
enemy  was  too  sharp  for  you." 

"  I  have  been  learning  my  own  weakness, "  an- 
swered Macpherson,  sitting  down  on  the  bed.  "  Now, 
my  dear  lad,  how  is  the  world  going  with  you? 
I  would  that  I  did  not  see  those  deep  lines  on  your 
young  face,  and  the  youth  dragged  out  of  you 
before  your  manhood  has  well  begun.  Did  I  not 


A   WARM   MORNING'S   WORK.  197 

tell  you  what  it  was  to  stand  behind  stone  walls,  and 
hope  against  hope  for  the  relief  that  would  never 
come,  and  see  the  tender  women  and  children  stricken 
down  without  help  or  pity?" 

"Nay,  Macpherson,  you  are  ill  or  you  would  not 
talk  thus." 

"  Indeed,  I  think  I  am,  and  I  am  growing  old 
and  childish.  But  I  have  been  mad  or  worse  for 
a  week.  With  the  deep  water  to  the  quays,  and 
the  good  ships  yonder  with  brave  hearts  on  board 
of  them,  to  think  of  what  might  be  done  and  is 
not!  'Twas  all  very  well,"  he  went  on  bitterly, 
"  for  Kirke,  the  lying  rogue,  to  dragoon  the  poor 
ploughmen  who  stood  gallantly  by  Monmouth,  but 
'tis  hard  to  think  that  for  want  of  a  little  courage 
we  should  die  here  like  dogs.  Better  throw  open 
the  gates  and  let  them  murder  us  where  we  stand, 
than  fight  for  those  who  will  not  help  us." 

"  This  is  but  wild  talk, "  said  Gervase. 

"  Truly,  I  know  that,  and  I  would  be  apt  to  shoot 
another  through  the  head  did  he  prate  as  I  have 
done,  but  twelve  hours'  want  of  food  and  rest  have 
somewhat  weakened  me." 

Gervase  sprang  from  his  bed,  and  hastily  dressing 
himself  set  out  his  scanty  breakfast,  for  meat  and 
meal  had  become  precious,  and  he  could  not  afford 
to  waste  them.  a  There  is  enough  for  both  of  us, "  he 
said,  "  and  there  is  still  tobacco  for  your  pipe.  The 
guns  are  going  merrily  yonder,  and  we'll  set  ourselves 
to  work  as  merrily  here.  We  march  to  the  tune 
of  'No  Surrender.'" 


I98  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

Macpherson  smiled  at  the  young  man's  simulated 
gaiety,  and  set  himself  down  beside  him  to  their 
frugal  meal.  When  he  had  finished,  he  lighted  his 
pipe  and  took  a  more  hopeful  tone.  "  I  have  not 
yet  told  you, "  he  said,  "  why  I  came  here  this 
morning,  but  the  day  is  young  and  we  have  two 
good  hours  before  us  yet.  We  had  a  brave  night 
of  it." 

"  A  raid  on  the  fish-house  ?"  Gervase  inquired. 
"  I  heard  an  expedition  was  forward,  but  I  did  not 
know  that  you  were  out.  Have  you  succeeded?" 

"  In  truth, "  Macpherson  answered,  "  we  came  off 
better  than  I  hoped.  But  the  fish  had  never  been 
caught  that  we  hoped  to  catch,  and  we  shot  our 
nets  in.  vain.  Having  given  up  hope  of  Kirke  and 
his  ships,  the  Fourteen  thought  we  might  open  up 
communication  with  Enniskillen,  and  Walker  found 
a  lad  who  thought  he  knew  the  way,  and  had  the 
heart  to  make  the  journey.  So  having  first  set  the 
story  going  that  we  purposed  making  a  push  for 
the  fish-house,  we  waited  until  dark,  and  then  pushed 
off  up  the  river  with  the  purpose  of  landing  the  lad 
outside  the  enemy's  lines.  So  there  we  were  in  the 
dark,  Murray  and  myself  and  some  fifteen  others 
of  the  die-hard  sort,  holding  by  the  gunwhale,  and 
listening  to  the  Irish  mounting  their  guard  and 
singing  their  idle  songs.  It  passed  very  well  till 
we  got  as  far  as  Evan's  Wood,  and  then  by  ill  luck 
the  moon  must  come  out  and  ruin  us  wholly.  They 
caught  sight  of  us  there  in  the  boat  pulling  hard 
in  mid-stream,  and  then  a  great  gun  sent  the  shot 


A  WARM   MORNING'S    WORK.  I  99 

driving  past  our  ears  like  ducks  in  winter.  They 
kept  up  the  fire  from  the  shore,  but  the  night  was, 
as  you  know,  dark  and  stormy,  and  the  moon  that 
had  given  us  so  ill  a  start,  went  down  behind  the 
clouds  again.  I  was  strong  for  turning  back,  for  I 
saw  the  lad  had  lost  his  spirit,  but  they  must  needs 
hold  on  as  far  as  Dunnalong,  and  so  we  got  so  far 
and  proposed  to  land  our  messenger.  But  we  might 
as  well  have  been  abed,  for  the  great  gun  had  taken 
away  his  appetite  for  the  venture,  and  he  would  not 
set  a  foot  on  shore.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  go  back  the  way  we  came,  and  put  the  best 
face  we  could  on  our  bootless  errand.  So  we  came 
pulling  down  stream,  never  knowing  the  minute 
when  a  round  shot  would  send  us  to  the  bottom, 
when  we  saw  two  boats  making  for  us  in  the  gray 
of  the  dawn  that  was  now  something  too  clear  for 
safety.  They  were  our  old  friends  the  dragoons, 
and  soon  the  bullets  began  to  fly.  and  we  returned 
their  fire  with  so  much  fervour  that  they  kept  their 
distance,  like  the  careful  lads  they  are.  Then  says 
Murray,  who  likes  nothing  better  than  a  melee,  'Lay 
us  alongside  the  rascals,  and  we'll  treat  them  to  a 
morning  dram ; '  and  though  they  would  have  sheered 
off  when  they  saw  us  resolute  to  close,  we  even  ran 
up  under  their  stern,  and  had  clambered  on  board 
in  a  twinkling.  We  made  short  work  of  them  and ' 
threw  them  overboard  with  a  will.  Some  of  them 
went  to  the  bottom,  and  some  of  them  got  ashore, 
but  for  their  boat  we  brought  it  with  us,  and  it  is 
even  now  lying  by  the  quay." 


200  THE    CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"And  what  became  of  the  other?" 

"Oh!  they  did  not  like  our  entertainment  and 
begged  to  be  excused;  so  they  stole  off  and  left 
us  with  our  prize." 

"  It  is  good  news, "  said  Gervase ;  "  the  best  we 
have  had  for  many  a  day.  I  would  have  ventured 
something  to  have  been  of  your  company." 

"  I  thought  of  you,  my  lad,  as  we  clambered 
over  the  gunwhale  and  gave  them  the  ends  of  our 
muskets.  But  there  is  still  fun  in  the  fair,  and  I 
have  come  for  you  this  morning  to  join  in  it.  With 
the  boats  we  purpose  paying  them  a  visit  yonder 
by  the  orchard,  and  drawing  the  teeth  of  the  great 
guns  that  have  been  barking  somewhat  vehemently 
of  late.  Baker  himself  hath  asked  for  you,  which 
is  to  your  credit  in  a  garrison  where  brave  men  are 
not  few.  I  think  myself,  you  have  come  to  handle 
your  sword  in  a  pretty  fashion." 

"  There  is  no  lack  of  opportunity  to  learn,"  said 
Gervase  laughing,  "  but  you  must  not  spoil  me  with 
praise  before  I  have  deserved  it." 

The  old  soldier  looked  at  him  with  a  friendly 
glance,  as  he  bent  down  to  examine  the  lock  of 
his  pistol.  Most  men  were  drawn  towards  Gervase 
Orme.  His  frankness,  his  courage,  and  his  ready 
sympathy  had  no  touch  of  affectation,  while  his 
handsome  face  and  stalwart  presence  had  made  him 
many  friends;  but  Macpherson,  who  had  been  on 
terms  of  intimacy  with  few  for  years,  had  come  to 
look  upon  him  as  a  father  looks  on  a  son.  Gervase 
had  found  his  way  to  a  heart  that  had  long  been 


A  WARM  MORNING'S  WORK.  201 

closed  to  human  sympathy,  and  without  knowing  it, 
had  brought  light  to  a  mind  warped  and  darkened 
by  a  narrow  and  visionary  creed.  It  was  not  that 
Macpherson's  character  had  undergone  a  change, 
but  during  the  fortnight  he  had  spent  in  the  farm- 
house, a  part  of  his  nature  had  awakened  to  life  which 
he  had  been  sedulously  trying  to  stifle,  and  which 
he  had  not  been  able  to  reconcile  with  the  hard  and 
narrow  creed  he  had  adopted. 

"Lay  down  your  weapon,"  he  said,  as  Gervase 
with  some  eagerness  was  making  his  preparations 
to  set  out,  "  lay  down  your  weapon,  and  listen  to 
me.  We  have  a  good  hour  still;  a  man  should 
never  hurry  to  put  his  head  in  danger.  Have  you 
made  it  up  yet  with  the  sweet  lass — you  know 
whom  I  mean." 

"I  saw  Miss  Carew  last  night,"  said  Gervase 
with  some  confusion. 

"  Tut,  man,  you  will  not  put  me  off  the  scent 
like  a  young  puppy  that  hath  not  yet  found  its 
nose.  She  is  a  wench  in  ten  thousand — the  good 
woman  of  the  preacher,  and  was  made  to  nurse 
a  brave  man's  bairns.  You  must  not  let  your  gay 
spark  of  a  Frenchman  cut  out  the  prize  before  your 
eyes,  as  he  means  to  do,  if  I  have  an  eye  to  read 
his  purpose.  You  know  not  how  to  woo,  my  lad. 
Women  are  not  to  be  taken  like  a  town,  with  the 
slow  approach  of  parallels  and  trenches;  they  ever 
love  to  be  carried  with  a  rush.  The  bold  wooer  is 
twice  a  man.  You  must  go  blithely  about  it  and 
tell  her  what  you  mean." 


202  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

•'It  is  true  that  I  love  Miss  Carew,"  said  Ger- 
vase,  "  but  this  is  no  time  to  make  love,  and  I  will 
not  distress  her  with  any  importunity  of  mine." 

"Listen  to  the  lad!"  cried  Macpherson,  with  a 
gesture  of  impatience ;  u  importunity  of  his,  quoth 
he !  Our  troubles  will  not  last  for  ever,  and  a  wo- 
man will  not  find  her  trouble  the  harder  to  bear 
because  a  brave  man  tells  her  he  would  have  her 
to  be  his  wife." 

"  You  do  not  know  Dorothy  Carew,  "  said  Ger- 
vase  good-humouredly.  "  I  think  she  would  not 
love  a  man  the  better  for  thinking  of  himself  when 
other  work  is  to  be  done." 

"  Being  a  woman,  I  think  she  would  love  him 
none  the  worse;  but  you  are  an  obstinate  lad  and 
will  take  your  own  course.  Her  brother  favours 
you  but  little,  and  the  Frenchman  is  not  much  bur- 
dened with  tender  scruples.  You  will  see  what  you 
will  see.  But  I  have  spoken  my  word  of  warning, 
and  will  start  when  you  please." 

Gervase  could  see  that  Macpherson  was  dissatis- 
fied, but  he  thought  it  useless  to  prolong  the  argu- 
ment and  prepared  to  accompany  his  friend. 

The  boats  were  lying  at  the  quay,  and  the  adven- 
turers were  already  embarking  when  Macpherson 
and  Gervase  arrived.  The  expedition  was  full  of 
danger.  Every  man  who  took  part  in  it  knew  that 
he  was  taking  his  life  in  his  hand;  but  there  was 
glory  to  be  gained,  for  the  eyes  of  the  whole  city 
were  upon  them.  On  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
encircled  by  its  green  hedge,  lay  the  orchard  with 


A  WARM  MORNING'S  WORK.  203 

its  battery  of  guns  that  seldom  were  silent  for  a 
day  together.  Only  one  company  lay  in  the  farm- 
house hard  by  to  protect  the  gunners,  and  it  was 
hoped  that  by  a  bold  and  rapid  push,  the  garrison 
might  cross  the  river  and  spike  the  guns  before  a 
stronger  force  had  time  to  interfere.  But  they  must 
first  face  the  fire  of  the  guns,  and  having  landed, 
must  take  their  chance  of  finding  the  enemy  pre- 
pared to  give  them  a  warm  reception. 

It  was  a  fine  thing  to  see  the  gay  courage  with 
which  the  men  of  the  garrison  took  their  seats,  and 
examined  the  priming  of  their  muskets.  It  seemed, 
from  their  bearing,  rather  a  work  of  pleasure  than 
one  of  life  and  death  they  were  engaged  upon. 

Gervase  took  his  seat  in  the  stern  of  the  smaller 
and  lighter  boat — the  only  one  the  garrison  pos- 
sessed before  they  took  their  prize  that  morning. 
Colonel  Murray,  who  had  inspired  the  venture,  sat 
in  the  stern  sheets,  holding  the  tiller  in  his  hand. 
A  saturnine  man,  with  the  reserve  and  silent  energy 
of  his  race,  his  face  was  lighted  with  the  glow  of 
excitement,  and  his  voice  was  loud  and  deep,  as  he 
bade  them  push  off  into  the  stream. 

"Now,  my  lads,"  he  said,  "this  is  a  race  for 
glory — we  must  be  first  across,  and  first  we  shall 
be.  Keep  low  in  the  boat,  and  do  not  fire  a  single 
shot  till  we  meet  them  on  the  bank;  then  we  shall 
treat  them  to  a  taste  of  our  cold  steel." 

The  boat  swung  out  into  the  stream,  and  the 
rowers  bent  to  their  work  with  a  will.  The  other 
boat  was  heavier,  and  soon  they  had  out-distanced 


204  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

it  considerably.  Murray  had  been  watching  the 
gunners  in  the  orchard,  who  had  already  wakened 
up  to  the  fact  that  they  were  threatened  with  an 
attack. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  that,  Orme  ?  your  eyes 
are  younger  than  mine,  but  if  I  do  not  mistake 
they  are  about  to  carry  off  the  guns." 

"  You  are  right, "  said  Gervase.  "  One  they  have 
already  carried  past  the  farmhouse,  and  are  pre- 
paring to  do  the  same  with  the  other.  And  the 
foot  are  coming  down  in  force  to  their  support." 

u  Let  them  come.  We  are  still  in  time,  and  will 
not  turn  for  twenty  regiments.  Now,  my  sons, 
bend  to  it  with  a  will." 

Already  they  were  met  with  a  dropping  musket 
fire  which  sent  the  bullets  singing  about  their  ears 
and  splashed  up  the  water  round  them,  but  they 
held  on  stoutly  and  redoubled  their  efforts.  The 
enemy  had  been  taken  by  surprise.  They  had 
not  dreamt  that  so  small  a  force,  in  the  light 
of  open  day,  would  have  ventured  to  make  so 
hazardous  an  attempt.  But  they  were  now  unde- 
ceived, and  made  their  preparations  to  receive  their 
visitors.  They  were  dragging  off  the  guns  to  a 
place  of  safety,  and  three  companies  of  foot  were 
lining  the  hedge  that  ran  parallel  with  the  bank. 
Then  the  bow  of  the  boat  grated  on  the  beach,  and 
the  men  of  the  garrison  leaped  into  the  water,  hold- 
ing their  muskets  above  their  heads. 

Without  waiting  for  their  comrades  who  were 
straining  every  nerve  to  come  up  to  their  support, 


A  WARM  MORNING'S  WORK.  205 

they  clambered  up  the  bank,  and  rushed  at  the 
hedge  where  the  red-coats  showed  through  the 
green  foliage.  As  they  came  up  they  fired  a  volley, 
and  clubbing  their  muskets,  came  crashing  through 
the  thorns  with  the  spirit  of  men  who  would  not 
be  denied.  The  fight  was  short  but  stubborn. 
Foot  by  foot  the  defenders  of  the  hedge  were  driven 
back,  and  then  as  the  men  of  the  second  boat  came 
up,  they  broke  and  fled.  The  guns  were  now  being 
hurried  down  the  road,  and  every  moment  the 
chance  of  overtaking  them  grew  less.  The  delay 
caused  by  that  bold  stand  was  fatal.  But  still  the 
assailants  kept  pressing  on,  hoping  that  they  would 
be  in  time  to  reach  the  guns  before  they  were  inter- 
cepted. 

As  they  came  up  the  gunners  abandoned  the 
pieces,  but  it  was  too  late  now  to  wait  to  spike 
them.  Already  a  strong  force  was  drawing  between 
them  and  the  boats,  and  it  was  with  a  bitter  sense 
of  failure  that  they  turned  their  faces  towards  the 
river,  and  prepared  to  cut  their  way  back  again. 
The  odds  were  four  to  one  against  them.  It  seemed 
as  if  they  had  been  caught  in  a  trap  of  their  own 
making.  From  every  clump  of  bushes  flashed  the 
blaze  of  the  muskets,  and  here  one  and  there 
another  went  down  in  his  tracks. 

"  This  will  not  do, "  rang  out  the  voice  of  their 
leader.  "  We  must  'try  them  hand  to  hand.  After 
me,  my  lads ! "  Leaping  the  orchard  fence  they 
met  the  enemy  hand  to  hand,  but  still  pushing 
forward  to  where  the  boats  were  lying  in  the  river. 


206  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

The  trees  that  grew  closer  here  and  were  covered 
with  their  summer  foliage,  protected  them  from  the 
fire  of  the  foot  who  lay  on  the  other  side.  Then 
Gervase  saw  Macpherson  in  front  of  him  stumble 
and  fall,  and  he  feared  it  was  all  over  with  the 
brave  old  soldier.  But  he  was  on  his  feet  before 
Gervase  could  reach  him. 

"  Don't  tarry  for  me, "  he  said,  as  Gervase  seeing 
him  stagger  forward,  took  him  by  the  arm.  "  Make 
what  haste  you  can  and  do  not  mind  for  me. 
This  trifle  will  not  stop  me." 

"  We'll  find  our  way  together  then.  Hold  on  a 
little  longer  and  we'll  reach  the  boats  in  spite  of 
them.  Ah!  that  is  bravely  done." 

From  tree  to  tre.e  and  from  hedge  to  hedge  the  men 
of  the  garrison  cut  their  way,  presenting  a  front,  that 
though  ragged  and  broken,  sent  the  enemy  to  right 
and  left.  Then  they  reached  the  open  space  by 
the  river,  and  restraining  the  impulse  that  would 
have  driven  them  to  rush  to  the  boats,  fell  back 
slowly  and  steadily.  The  wounded  whom  they 
carried  with  them  were  first  helped  on  board,  and 
then  they  rapidly  embarked;  the  last  man  to  leave 
the  bank  being  Murray,  who  with  his  sword  held 
in  his  teeth  pushed  off  the  boat  into  the  deep  water. 
How  they  lived  through  the  storm  of  bullets  that 
were  rained  upon  them  Gervase  hardly  knew,  but 
barely  a  man  was  touched,  and  they  sent  back  a 
ringing  cheer  of  defiance  as  they  passed  rapidly 
beyond  reach  of  the  muskets. 

It    was    a    glorious,    if   fruitless    and     foolhardy 


A  WARM  MORNING'S  WORK.  207 

deed — one  which  only  brave  men  would  have 
undertaken  in  a  spirit  of  despair,  but  one  that  they 
might  look  back  on  in  after  years  with  pride  for 
the  glory  of  it.  The  deed  was  done  in  sight  of 
all  the  city.  Their  friends  had  watched  the  charge 
from  the  walls,  and  seen  the  stubborn  fight  for 
safety,  and  now  they  poured  out  to  meet  them  as 
they  came  through  Ship  Quay  Gate,  and  welcomed 
them  back  as  if  they  had  come  in  triumph.  From 
want  of  the  sacred  poet  their  names  have  grown 
dim  through  the  gathered  years,  but  they  did  not 
fight  for  renown — only  simple  men  who  sought  to 
do  their  homely  duty. 

Macpherson's  wound  had  proved  a  trifling  one 
after  all,  and  with  the  help  of  Gervase  he  was  able 
to  make  his  way  home  on  foot.  A  spent  bullet 
had  struck  him  on  the  knee,  and  the  wound  though 
painful,  was  not  likely  to  incapacitate  him  for  ser- 
vice. He  thought,  on  the  whole,  they  had  had  a 
pleasant  morning's  work,  and  declared  that  with 
such  stirring  entertainment  he  would  need  but  half 
his  rations. 


CHAPTER 

OF  A  STRATAGEM  OF  WAR. 

DAY  by  day  the  time  crept  on  toward  the  end  of 
June,  and  brought  no  change  to  the  garrison. 
There  were  fewer  mouths,  it  is  true,  to  feed  now, 
for  disease  and  battle  had  laid  them  under  heavy 
contribution,  but  the  store  of  provisions  was  rapidly 
becoming  exhausted.  A  fortnight  more,  so  they 
believed  and  said,  would  bring  them  face  to  face 
with  actual  starvation,  and  the  city  must  fall  from 
want  of  men  to  line  the  walls  and  man  the  guns. 
For  surrender  they  would  not.  "  First  the  prisoners 
and  then  each  other,"  was  their  grim  jest  that  had 
an  edge  of  earnest  with  it.  No  man  now  dared  to 
whisper  the  prudence  of  surrender,  for  the  spirit  of 
resistance,  which  had  been  strong  before,  now 
burned  with  a  wild  and  splendid  flame  as  they  felt 
the  end  was  coming.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  Ulster 
man  does  not  find  its  outlet  in  boisterous  speech — 
as  his  excitement  increases  his  silence  deepens,  and 
he  is,  unlike  his  Celtic  countryman,  ever  readier  with 
his  hand  than  with  his  tongue.  And  now,  though 
hope  was  growing  fainter  as  the  days  dragged  on, 
their  pride  —  the  stern  pride  of  religion  and  of  race- 
inspired  them  with  an  obstinacy  that  had  something 


A    STRATAGEM   OF  WAR.  2OQ 

sublime  in  it.  Yet  all  the  while  the  ships  lay  in 
the  Lough  and  made  no  effort  to  come  to  their 
relief.  Day  by  day  they  signalled  in  vain  from  the 
Cathedral  tower  and  the  great  guns  rang  out,  but 
Kirke  would  make  no  move.  So  close  was  the 
investment  now,  every  loophole  guarded  with  the 
extremest  vigilance,  that  communication  was  impos- 
sible. One  brave  man  had  indeed  made  his  way 
from  the  fleet  to  the  city  after  passing  through 
perils  innumerable;  but  though  he  made  the  attempt, 
he  found  himself  unable  to  return.  Another  mes- 
senger had  bravely  volunteered  to  carry  out  their 
message  of  despair,  but  he  never  reached  the  ships. 
A  day  or  two  after,  the  enemy  erected  a  gallows 
on  the  bastion  across  the  river,  and  there  in  the 
sight  of  the  city  the  gallant  fellow  met  his  fate. 

Dorothy  Carew  never  looked  back  on  this  time 
without  a  shudder.  She  suffered  more  than  many, 
for  to  the  hardships  she  endured  she  added  a  private 
and  peculiar  sorrow  of  her  own.  The  first  she  bore 
cheerfully  and  uncomplainingly,  but  her  brother's 
secret,  so  base  and  so  contemptible,  oppressed  her 
with  a  terrible  feeling  of  shame  and  distress.  After 
her  first  outburst  of  confidence  to  Gervase  Orme, 
which  she  sometimes  half  regretted,  she  watched 
her  brother  jealously,  and  lay  night  after  night  listen- 
ing for  his  footsteps. 

But  whether  the  warning  he  had  received  had 
taught  him  caution,  or  whether  he  had  fulfilled  his 
mission,  his  midnight  excursions  were  now  abandoned 
and  he  kept  closely  to  the  house.  Still,  to  her  keen 

1.4 


210  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

and  high  sense  of  honour  it  was  intolerable  that  her 
brother — the  head  of  the  house — should  be  a  traitor 
whose  guilt  might  be  discovered  at  any  time,  and 
among  so  many  brave  men  should  act  the  coward 
and  the  spy.  Had  he  gone  over  boldly  to  the 
enemy  and  thrown  in  his  lot  with  them,  she  could 
have  loved  him.  But  now  her  love  had  been  crushed 
out  of  her  heart,  and  only  comtempt  and  shame 
were  left.  Physical  suffering  seemed  a  light  thing 
in  comparison,  and  she  envied  the  women  who  sent 
their  husbands  out  to  fight,  and  prayed  for  their 
safety  when  they  were  absent.  But  still  she  bore 
up  with  uncomplaining  fortitude,  and  no  one  guessed 
the"  secret  grief  that  was  preying  on  her  mind. 
Lady  Hester,  who  had  suffered  agonies  of  fear 
while  the  bombs  were  raining  on  the  city,  she  had 
encouraged  with  a  simulated  cheerfulness,  and  ordered 
her  little  household  as  she  might  have  done  in  times 
of  peace.  The  pinch  of  famine  had  hardly  affected 
them  yet — that  was  to  come — but  even  that  she 
looked  forward  to  without  any  fear  for  herself. 

But  besides  all  this,  she  had  another  source  of 
future  trouble  in  her  cousin.  She  could  not  long 
remain  blind  to  the  fact  that  his  admiration  for  her 
was  undisguised,  and  that  beneath  his  cynical  and 
flippant  manner  there  had  grown  up  a  regard  that 
was  more  than  cousinly.  It  is  true  that  he  did  not 
annoy  her  with  his  attentions,  for  Jasper  and  himself 
spent  much  of  their  time  together.  But  he  had 
shown  clearly  on  more  than  one  occasion  that 
he  was  only  waiting  for  a  fitting  opportunity  to 


A    STRATAGEM   OF  WAR.  211 

declare  himself  her  lover.  That  opportunity  she 
was  anxious  should  not  present  itself.  It  was  not, 
she  reasoned  with  herself,  that  she  loved  another 
better,  but  she  did  not  love  De  Laprade,  and  she 
did  not  wish  to  wound  him.  She  did  not  wholly 
understand  him,  and  could  not  tell  whether  he  was 
ever  in  earnest  or  felt  sincerely  about  anything. 
Then  she  thought  of  Gervase  Orme,  with  his  frank 
laughter  and  quiet  speech,  who  treated  her  with 
a  distant  reverence  and  that  was  all.  It  was  a 
pleasant  thing  to  have  him  as  a  friend,  full  of  quiet 
strength  and  honest  as  the  day.  But  these  were 
no  times  to  think  of  such  things,  and  so  she  put  away 
the  thought  and  went  about  her  simple  duties,  hoping 
that  Gervase  would  call  to  see  her  soon. 

That  evening  she  was  seated  by  the  open  window, 
for  the  day  had  been  close  and  sultry  and  the  night 
was  warm,  a  volume  of  Quarles'  Emblems  spread 
open  on  her  knees.  Her  brother  and  the  Vicomte 
had  been  closeted  together  during  the  day,  and 
Lady  Hester,  fatigued  and  desponding,  had  retired  for 
the  night.  She  was  very  busy  with  her  own  thoughts, 
and  had  not  heard  De  Laprade  enter  the  room.  He 
came  softly  up  and  took  a  chair  beside  her. 

"  Of  what  is  my  cousin  Dorothy  so  full  of  thought?" 
he  said. 

She  looked  up  with  a  blush,  for  just  at  that 
moment  she  was  wondering  what  a  certain  fair- 
haired,  long-limbed  young  giant  was  doing  in  the 
outposts  or  elsewhere,  and  the  voice  recalled  her  to 
herself  with  a  feeling  of  self-reproach. 


212  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  I  am  afraid, "  she  answered,  "  my  thoughts  would 
have  little  interest  for  you.  A  woman's  head  is  ever 
full  of  idle  thoughts." 

"  Not  the  wise  head  of  my  cousin ;  it  is  only  the 
men  of  her  family  who  give  themselves  to  folly." 

"The  Vicomte  de  Laprade  for  example?" 

*  Truly  he  is  a  chief  offender,  but  he  is  growing 
wise  and  sober  and  hardly  knows  himself.  He  has 
not  smiled  for  a  week,  and  thinks  he  never  will 
be  able  to  smile  again.  Even  his  cousin  Jasper  has 
ceased  to  amuse  him." 

"  You  are  greatly  to  be  pitied, "  she  said  with  a 
smile.  "  But  it  is  not  duller  than  you  would  have 
found  Vincennes.  There  too  you  would  have  grown 
wiser. " 

"Nay,  I  think  not.  A  long  time  ago— it  seems 
like  years,  I  grow  so  old — I  was  for  six  months  a 
prisoner  in  the  Bastille,  and  when  His  Majesty 
relented  and  I  returned  to  court  I  was  no  wiser 
than  before.  My  folly  only  took  another  turn.  But 
then  I  had  not  found  a  friend  to  warn,  nor  a 
counsellor  like  my  fair  cousin  to  teach  me  better 
things. " 

"I  dare  say  you  deserved  your  punishment.  Now 
tell  me  something  of  your  offence." 

"  Indeed,  I  hardly  know  myself,  but  I  think  it  was  — 
yes,  I  think  it  was  a  lady.  By  accident  I  trod  on 
her  train  in  a  minuet  and  she  refused  to  accept  my 
apology.  I  could  only  smile  and  do  penance  for  my 
clumsiness,  for  one  may  not  lightly  offend  a  great 
lady  like  Madame  de " 


A    STRATAGEM   OF  WAR.  213 

"Madame  de ?" 

"  I  have  forgotten  her  name,  but  it  does  not 
matter  now.  She  has  forgotten  Victor  de  Laprade, 
as  he  has  forgotten  her." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that,  my  cousin  Victor. " 

"That  I  have  forgotten  the  circumstances?  Ah, 
well!  it  is  possible  that  I  might  recall  them  to 
memory,  but  I  would,  rather  let  them  die,  as  I 
would  all  that  belongs  to  the  past.  If  my  cousin 
Dorothy  would  but  give  me  leave  I  would 
begin  a  new  life  to-day  with  new  thoughts,  new 
feelings,  and  a  new  heart.  She  smiles,  and  thinks  it 
is  not  possible  that  I,  who  have  wasted  my  youth, 
should  try  to  save  my  manhood." 

"  Indeed  you  have  my  leave,  but  your  refor- 
mation is  too  sudden,  and  you  know  you  are  not 
serious." 

"I  have  been  serious  all  my  life;  my  cousin  does 
not  know  her  kinsman.  Because  I  followed  the 
fashion  of  my  time,  and  fought  and  drank  and  played, 
wasting  my  youth  like  many  another  reckless  fellow, 
therefore  I  was  merry  and  had  no  thought  or  care. 
Because  I  am  a  gentleman,  and  not  a  solemn  citizen 
who  looks  with  a  grim  frown  on  all  the  devil's 
works,  therefore  my  heart  knows  no  sadness.  It  is 
thus  the  world  has  judged  me,  and  so  it  may.  But 
it  is  because  I  am  sad  and  weary  that  I  would 
have  my  cousin  judge  me  differently." 

For  the  first  time  since  Dorothy  had  known  him, 
he  had  lost  his  light  and  cynical  manner  and  spoke 
with  simple  earnestness.  He  had  made  no  display 


214  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

of  emotion,  but  though  he  was  calm  and  self-restrained, 
it  was  yet  evident  he  spoke  with  abundant  feeling. 
If  he  was  not  sincere,  his  humility  and  contrition 
were  well  assumed. 

"  I  have  been  looking  all  my  life, "  he  went  on, 
looking  at  her  steadily  as  she  kept  her  eyes  bent 
on  the  book  that  still  lay  open  on  her  knees ;  "  I 
have  been  seeking  all  my  life  for  a  quiet  heart — I, 
the  libertine,  the  gambler  who  have  squandered  my 
patrimony  and  wasted  my  heritage.  It  was  not  to 
be  found  where  I  sought  it,  and  my  search  was  in 
vain.  But  now  I  know  the  secret  that  I  was  too 
blind  to  see  before.  Do  you  know,  my  cousin, 
what  it  is?  Nay,  you  will  not  rise,  for  you  must 
hear  me  out.  It  is  love — the  love  a  man  may  feel 
for  what  is  purer  and  better  than  himself,  the  love 
that  fills  him  with  fresh  hopes  and  new  desires,  the 
love  that  raises  him  to  the  pure  heights  of  her  he 
worships. " 

Then  he  suddenly  stopped.  Hardly  knowing  what 
answer  to  make,  Dorothy  rose  from  her  seat  and 
the  Vicomte  stooped  down  to  pick  up  the  book  that 
had  fallen  to  the  floor.  He  said  gravely  as  he  reached 
it  to  her,  "  That  is  all  my  secret,  my  cousin,  and 
does  not  sound  so  terrible  when  all  is  said.  I  trust 
you  will  remember  it,  for  some  day  I  may  tell  you 
how  I  came  to  make  the  great  discovery." 

"Lady  Hester  would  have  made  a  better  confi- 
dante or,  perhaps,  my  brother  Jasper.  And  that 
reminds  me,  Victor,"  she  continued,  with  a  too  evi- 
dent anxiety  to  change  the  subject  of  this  conver- 


A    STRATAGEM   OF   WAR.  215 

sation,  "I  have  often  longed  to  ask  what  Jasper  and 
yourself  find  to  talk  about  during  the  long  hours 
you  spend  together  in  his  chamber." 

"  Jasper  is  learning  a  very  useful  lesson, "  answered 
De  Laprade  resuming  his  old  manner,  "which  I 
teach  him  out  of  my  experience.  But  now  his 
education  is  nearly  finished  and  we  shall  see  whether 
he  will  profit  by  it." 

"  I  suppose  like  all  who  learn  their  lesson  in  that 
school, "  said  Dorothy  soberly  enough,  "  he  will 
pay  for  it  ?  " 

De  Laprade  looked  at  her  gravely,  and  then  took 
her  hand  in  both  of  his.  "  It  would  be  an  idle 
affectation  in  me  to  pretend  that  I  am  ignorant  of 
your  meaning,  but  I  think  you  are  wronging  me 
with  an  unjust  thought.  I  am  a  gambler,  it  is  true, 
and  love  the  music  of  the  dice,  but  your  brother, 
heedless  as  he  is,  will  not  suffer  at  my  hands. 
Were  he  not  my  kinsman  who  has  given  me  shelter, 
he  is  the  brother  of  Dorothy  Carew." 

u  I  know  you  will  forgive  me, "  said  Dorothy  con- 
tritely. "  But  if  I  know  Jasper  he  will  look  to  you 
for  payment  of  your  losses.  And  he  is  rich  while 
you— 

"Am  standing  in  my  kingdom,"  laughed  De 
Laprade.  "Do  not  trouble  your  mind  about  our 
play — 'tis  all  for  love." 

While  this  conversation  had  been  going  on,  a 
little  knot  of  officers  were  gathered  on  the  bastion 
near  Butcher's  Gate.  Hard  by  was  Alexander  Poke, 


2l6  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

the  gunner,  loading  a  great  gun  carefully  with  Ger- 
vase  Orme  seated  near  watching  the  operation.  The 
siege  had  already  placed  its  mark  on  all  of  them : 
the  daily  horrors  were  not  passing  over  them  without 
leaving  their  traces.  Anxious  and  depressed  in  mind 
and  wasted  in  body,  they  were  like  men  who  had 
passed  through  a  long  vigil  without  hope.  Their 
clothes  hung  loosely  about  them  and  were  torn  and 
frayed ;  and  it  was  clear  they  had  long  since  ceased 
to  regard '  appearances  and  only  looked  to  what 
was  serviceable.  They  moved  slowly  and  without 
enthusiasm,  but  on  the  faces  of  all  of  them  was  to 
be  read  the  same  hard  and  stubborn  look,  as  of  men 
who  knowing  the  worst  were  determined  to  endure 
to  the  end.  A  month  ago  they  might  have  listened 
to  liberal  terms  of  compromise;  now  they  were  deter- 
mined there  should  be  no  surrender  while  a  man 
remained  alive. 

Walker,  with  his  snow-white  head  and  stately 
presence,  bore  up  under  his  anxiety  with  a  higher 
spirit  than  many  of  the  younger  men,  and  as  he 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  little  group,  appeared  to 
have  suffered  less  than  any  other  among  them. 

"I  know  not,  gentlemen,"  he  had  been  saying, 
"what  this  missive  means  with  which  this  bar- 
barous soldier  has  favoured  us,  but  this  I  know, 
that  they  cannot  frighten  us  with  a  cartel  of  paper 
when  they  have  failed  to  do  so  with  their  guns. 
For  the  threat  of  putting  us  to  the  sword  and  refus- 
ing quarter  even  to  the  women,  that  they  may  do 
when  they  have  it  in  their  power,  but  for  the 


A    STRATAGEM   OF   WAR.  217 

other — I  think  'tis  mere  bravado  spun  out  of  the 
Frenchman's  brain.  What  say  you,  Colonel  Mit- 
chelburn?  " 

"I  have  served  with  De  Rosen,"  said  Mitchelburn, 
"  and  know  that  he  hath  the  heart  to  do  this  and 
more,  and  while  it  seems  to  us  an  act  too  base  and 
cowardly  for  words,  for  him  'tis  but  an  ordinary 
stratagem  of  war.  To  drive  a  few  hundred  wretched 
women  and  children  under  the  walls  to  starve  there, 
will  not  trouble  the  man  who  has  seen  the  sack  of 
fifty  cities.  But  there  are  gallant  gentlemen  yonder, 
men  of  spirit  and  honour,  who  will  never  suffer 
this  savage  Russian  to  carry  out  his  threat." 

"I  know  not  that — I  know  not  that.  They  will 
believe  we  cannot  help  but  take  them  in,  and  how 
in  Heaven's  name,  can  we  do  otherwise?  We  cannot 
stand  here  and  see  them  starved  before  our  eyes. 
It  is  not  well  to  meet  sorrow  half  way  but  at  most 
there  is  not  more  than  a  fortnight's  food  in  the 
magazine  and  then" 

"  No,  Colonel  Walker,  though  it  break  our  hearts 
to  see  it,  there  is  nothing  must  drive  us  from  our 
purpose,  and  though  my  wife  and  children  stood 
yonder  they  should  not  enter  by  my  will." 

"  Then  let  us  pray  God  that  He  may  harden  our 
hearts,  a  prayer  I  never  hoped  to  pray.  But  I  take 
this  letter,  such  as  it  is,  for  an  omen  of  good. 
They  are  growing  weary  of  the  stand  we  make  and 
fearful  that  relief  is  coming,  though  whence  we 
cannot  tell,  and  so  would  hurry  us  by  threats.  Is 
Kirke  about  to  make  a  push  at  last,  think  you  ? " 


2l8  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"When  they  have  strung  the  bully  up  to  the 
yard-arm  and  put  a  stout  heart  in  his  place,  we 
may  look  to  see  the  vessels  at  the  quay,  but  not 
till  then.  And  if  we  had  another  month's  supplies 
I  do  not  think  we  should  need  their  help,  for  they 
have  their  own  troubles  in  the  camp  yonder,  and 
have  lost  nearly  as  many  men  as  we.  The  pris- 
oners say  the  sickness  is  increasing." 

"And  the  supplies  are  failing  fast." 

"  Nay,  they  say  more  than  that.  One  fellow 
declared  roundly  that  there  are  still  traitors  among 
us  who  supply  the  enemy  with  information.  I  saw 
him  myself  and  questioned  him  roundly,  but  he  did 
not  know  the  names  or  kept  the  secret  to  him- 
self." 

"  The  traitors,  if  there  are  such,  can  harm  us 
little  now  unless  they  are  strong  enough  to  hold 
the  gates  and  drive  us  from  the  walls,  and  that 
could  hardly  be  without  its  coming  to  our  know- 
ledge. You  may  have  a  quiet  mind  on  that  head; 
treachery  has  done  its  worst,  and  we  have  all  our 
foes  in  front  now.  And  now  I  think  we  may 
quietly  disperse,  for  De  Rosen  has  not  kept  his 
promise,  or  more  humane  counsels  have  turned  him 
from  his  purpose.  Had  he  meant  to  fulfil  his 
threat,  we  had  seen  his  victims  under  the  walls 
before  this." 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  the  alarm  bell  rang  out 
calling  the  citizens  to  their  posts,  and  word  went 
round  that  the  enemy  was  about  to  make  an  at- 


A    STRATAGEM   OF  WAR.  2 19 

tack  in  full  force.  In  the  grey  evening  they  could 
see  them  from  the  walls  advancing  over  the  hill 
opposite  Butcher's  Gate,  and  coming  down  steadily 
towards  the  lines.  The  citizens  hurrying  from  their 
houses,  came  thronging  to  the  walls,  buckling  on 
their  weapons  as  they  came.  And  the  great  gun 
was  turned  upon  the  force  that  came  steadily  down 
the  hill  in  silence.  Once  the  great  gun  flashed 
and  only  once,  for  as  they  came  nearer  the  men 
upon  the  walls  listened  and  held  their  breath,  and 
then  set  up  a  great  cry.  The  army  that  came 
down  the  hill  came  without  purpose  of  offence ;  not 
the  regiments  of  Slane  or  Gormanstown,  but  a 
crowd  of  tender  women  and  fearful  children  and 
old  men  whose  day  of  labour  and  strife  was  over. 
On  they  came  with  the  sound  of  weeping  and  of 
sorrow,  that  to  hear  once  was  to  hear  for  ever,  for 
the  memory  of  it  would  never  pass  away. 

The  savage  marshal  had  fulfilled  his  promise. 
Torn  from  their  homes  and  hurried  to  the  front 
with  expectation  of  a  sudden  and  violent  death,  they 
had  been  collected  in  a  body  and  driven  to  the 
walls.  Pregnant  women  and  women  carrying  their 
babies  in  their  arms ;  old  men  who  could  hardly  totter 
forward ;  the  weak,  the  infirm,  all  who  had  not  the 
power  to  escape ;  were  gathered  together  for  his  pur- 
pose, and  driven  forward  without  remorse.  And  there 
in  sight  of  their  friends,  of  sons  and  brothers,  of  fathers 
and  lovers,  they  stood  between  the  famine-stricken 
city  on  the  one  side  and  on  the  other  an  enemy 
who  showed  no  pity. 


220  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

The  first  impulse  of  the  garrison,  an  impulse 
that  could  hardly  be  restrained,  was  to  throw  open 
the  gates  and  bring  them  within  the  shelter  of  the 
walls.  But  an  instant's  consideration  checked  their 
generous  instincts.  It  was  to  this  end  that  they 
were  collected  here ;  and  once  admitted,  they  might 
as  well  throw  open  the  gates  and  throw  down  their 
arms.  There  was  no  food  for  so  many  mouths — nay, 
there  was  no  food  for  themselves. 

No  greater  trial,  no  trial  half  so  great,  had  over- 
taken them  since  the  siege  began,  or  brought  them 
so  much  suffering.  They  were  not  given  to  emotion, 
but  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  among  them  on  the 
walls  that  night,  as  they  hardened  their  hearts  and 
swore  a  deep  oath  of  vengeance. 

Then  Walker  and  others  went  out  to  have  speech 
with  the  wretched  crowd  of  outcasts,  and  in  a  little 
while  after  came  back,  filled  with  admiration  and 
wonder.  Far  from  desiring  shelter  with  their  friends, 
they  refused  to  enter  the  city,  and  were  content  to 
die  where  they  stood  rather  than  that  the  safety 
of  the  city  should  be  put  in  peril.  So  they  made 
their  way  toward  the  lines  by  the  Windmill  Hill, 
and  spent  the  night  huddled  together  under  the 
open  sky,  while  the  enemy  looked  on  in  wonder, 
and  their  friends  turned  away,  as  if  the  sight  was 
more  than  they  could  bear. 

But  a  gallows  was  hastily  erected  on  the  Double 
Bastion  in  full  sight  of  the  camp,  and  it  was  resolved 
to  hang  all  the  prisoners  if  De  Rosen  persisted  in 
his  savage  purpose.  Hitherto  they  had  been  treated 


A    STRATAGEM   OF    WAR.  221 

with  consideration,  but  now  those  who  were  at  large 
were  collected  and  placed  in  Newgate,  and  Gervase 
Orme  who  was  answerable  for  the  safe  custody  of 
De  Laprade,  went  late  in  the  evening,  with  a  sorrow- 
ful heart,  to  carry  his  friend  thither. 


CHAPTER  xrv; 

OF  A  GAME  OF  CHANCE. 

JASPER  CAREW  appeared  but  seldom  in  public, 
and  then  with  a  moody  brow  and  a  preoccupied 
air.  For  the  most  part  he  kept  to  his  own  cham- 
ber, attended  only  by  Swartz,  who  was  as  silent 
and  reserved  as  his  master.  In  the  daily  incidents 
of  the  siege  he  appeared  to  take  no  interest  whatever, 
seeming  regardless  of  his  own  safety  and  wholly 
careless  of  the  safety  of  his  friends.  He  seldom 
saw  his  sister,  and  then  only  in  the  most  casual 
way.  It  was  in  vain  that  she  endeavoured  to  break 
through  the  icy  barrier  that  had  grown  up  between 
them.  He  repelled  her  efforts  and  frequently  left 
her  in  tears.  It  is  true  he  had  seldom  troubled 
himself  with  any  display  of  affection,  but  latterly 
his  entire  character  seemed  to  have  undergone  a 
change.  Between  himself  and  De  Laprade  a  close 
intimacy  had  sprung  up.  They  were  closeted  together 
for  hours,  and  it  not  unfrequently  happened  that 
their  evening  sitting  was  prolonged  far  into  the 
morning  following. 

Sitting  in  her  lonely  room  when  the  household 
had  retired  for  the  night,  Dorothy  wrould  hear  the 
gay  laugh  of  the  Vicomte  breaking  at  times  on 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  223 

the  quiet  of  the  house,  the  rattling  of  the  dice  box, 
and  the  muttered  oaths  of  her  brother  as  fortune 
went  against  him.  To  her  high  spirit  the  shame  of 
it  was  intolerable;  she  did  not  dare  to  speak  and 
she  could  not  be  silent.  With  De  Laprade  she 
knew  that  she  had  much  influence,  but  she  had  now 
reasons  of  her  own  for  declining  to  make  him  her 
confidant — with  her  brother  she  was  long  since  aware 
that  entreaties  would  prove  unavailing.  But  the  fact 
could  not  be  denied.  A  fatal  passion  for  play  had 
seized  upon  his  heart;  it  had  completely  absorbed 
and  overmastered  him;  he  was  entirely  its  slave. 
Night  after  night  and  day  after  day,  the  two — 
De  Laprade  and  himself— were  closeted  together, 
and  the  cloud  upon  her  brother's  brow  grew  blacker 
and  his  speech  harsher  and  more  abrupt.  In  De 
Laprade  there  had  been  no  change  perceptible. 
He  carried  himself  with  an  easy  insouciance  and 
treated  her  with  tender  deference. 

On  the  day  in  which  Do  Rosen  had  executed 
his  barbarous  threat  they  had  spent  many  hours 
together  in  the  little  chamber  in  the  basement.  The 
roar  of  the  cannon  that  had  been  sounding  all  day, 
the  marching  of  men,  and  the  tumult  of  the  crowded 
street,  had  been  hushed  to  a  still  and  almost  unna- 
tural quiet.  Swartz  had  carried  away  the  remains 
of  the  supper  that  had  been  served  to  them  here, 
and  had  lighted  the  candles  in  the  tall  silver  candle- 
sticks that  stood  upon  the  table.  They  had  both 
already  drunk  more  than  enough,  but  this  was  per- 


224  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

ceptibly  the  case  with  Jasper.  His  face  was  flushed, 
his  eyes  were  bloodshot,  and  his  hands  shook  upon 
the  dice-box:  he  had  loosened  his  lace  cravat  from 
his  throat  and  it  lay  on  the  floor  beside  him.  He 
frowned  heavily  and  flung  down  the  dice-box  with 
an  oath. 

"  Seven's  the  main, "  said  the  Vicomte,  gaily 
rattling  the  box.  "  We  who  woo  fortune  should 
court  her  lovingly.  Ah,  grace  de  Dieu !  I  told 
you  so ! " 

Carew  pushing  back  his  chair  and  walking  to 
the  window,  threw  it  wide  open.  The  cool  air 
blowing  freshly  through  the  lattice,  caused  the 
candles  to  flicker  where  they  stood.  The  night  was 
cold  and  the  sky  was  full  of  stars.  All  the  while 
the  Vicomte  sat  watching  him  with  a  faint  smile 
on  his  face  and  balancing  the  dice  in  his  hand. 
The  other  after  a  moment  turned  round  and  looked 
at  him.  His  face  was  now  deadly  pale.  Neither 
spoke  a  word.  Only  the  distant  challenging  of 
the  sentinels  broke  the  silence  of  the  chamber. 

The  Vicomte  pushed  back  his  chair  and  gently 
snuffed  the  candles.  His  face  displayed  no  emotion. 
Then  after  a  while  he  said,  "  That  completes  the 
play.  Your  revenge  has  been  a  costly  one,  my 
friend. " 

"My  revenge  has  been  a  costly  one,  "  answered 
Carew ;  "  there  remains  but  one  thing  more.  " 

"And  that?" 

"To  send  my  life  after  my  houses  and  lands. 
There  is  nothing  more  left  " 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  225 

ft  Bah !  you  are  but  a  fool ;  I  have  gone  the  same 
way  myself.  With  a  light  heart  I  have  lost  more 
in  a  night  than  would  buy  your  barren  acres  three 
times  over.  I,  who  was  already  a  pauper,  have 
staked  my  mistress,  my  buckles,  my  rings,  nay,  my 
very  peruke  itself  and  lost  them  too.  And  I  did 
not  complain.  I  had  my  sword  and  my  honour, 
and  could  wait  on  fortune  with  a  cheerful  mind.  I 
laughed  at  misfortune." 

"  Oh !  'tis  very  well  for  you  to  talk  thus,  "  cried 
Carew  moodily,  "  with  the  first  estate  in  the  country  in 
your  pocket — a  rare  exchange  for  your  castles  in  Spain." 

"  Monsieur  Carew  will  remember  that  I  did  not 
press  him  to  play.  He  who  tempts  the  fortunes 
of  the  hazard  should  learn  to  bear  his  loss  with 
equanimity.  One  should  bear  misfortune  like  a 
gentleman.  " 

"  I  will  have  no  sermons,  my  lord ;  'tis  enough 
that  you  should  have  stripped  me  of  every  rood  of 
my  land  and  every  doit  that  I  could  raise,  without 
presuming  to  lecture  me  on  deportment.  I  would 
have  you  know  that  I  will  follow  my  own  manner. 
I  find  no  fault  with  you — 'tis  my  own  accursed 
folly  that  has  made  my  heirship  of  the  briefest,  and 
left  me  a  beggar  before  I  had  entered  on  my 
inheritance.  " 

"  Play  is  an  admirable  moralist,  "  said  De  Laprade, 
altering  the  position  of  the  candlesticks,  "and 
preaches  excellent  homilies.  You  have  had  three 
weeks  in  the  society  of  the  coyest  mistress  in  the 
world,  and  now  you  grudge  the  tavern  charges. 

15 


226  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN, 

'Je  crois  Jeanncton, 
Aussi  douce  que  belle  • 
Je  crois  Jeanneton 
Plus  douce  qu'un — mouton.'" 

"  You  are  mocking  me,  my  lord. " 

"In  good  faith  I  do  not  think  I  am.  Sit  down, 
Carew,  and  let  us  look  the  matter  in  the  face  as 
sensible  men  should.  I  have  no  wish  to  put  your 
money  in  my  pocket  or  act  the  country  squire  on 
your  beggarly  paternal  fields,  but  my  ears  are  for 
ever  itching  for  the  pleasant  rattle  of  the  dice- 
board,  and  I  thirst  for  the  sight  of  a  royal  hand  at 
cards.  Fortune,  which  hath  hitherto  treated  me  so 
scurvily,  hath  taken  a  turn  at  last,  and  I  am  richer 
by  some  thousands  than  when  I  landed  in  your 
island  with  nothing  in  the  world  but  a  sword  and 
two  portmanteaux.  For  that,  I  am  wholly  indifferent, 
and  will  stake  my  new  possessions  as  readily  as  I 
threw  away  my  old.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  but  I  do 
not  think  you  would  take  back  what  you  have  lost 
as  a  gift,  even  if  I  offered  it  now.  " 

"  Would  I  not?  "  said  Carew,  with  a  hoarse  laugh, 
throwing  up  his  hand. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  would, "  answered  the 
Vicomte  gravely,  but  with  a  certain  elevation  of 
his  eyebrows.  "  Your  sense  of  honour  would 
forbid.  But  there  is  a  matter  for  which  I  have 
some  concern — how  will  this  affect  your  sister?" 

"  Leave  my  sister  out  of  the  question.  I  am  her 
protector  and  allow  no  man  to  question  me  on 
that  head.  " 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  227 

The  two  looked  at  one  another  steadily — the  one 
frowning,  the  other  coldly  impassive,  but  there  was 
that  look  in  De  Laprade's  eyes  that  made  Carew 
shift  his  gaze.  To  carry  off  his  confusion,  he  poured 
himself  out  a  full  glass  and  drank  it  at  a  breath. 

"  There  need  be  no  secrets  between  us,  my  good 
cousin.  I  have  never  doubted  that  you  have  al- 
ready staked  your  sister 's  fortune  and  that  it  has  gone 
after  the  rest  into  my  pocket.  I  have  known  even 
honourable  men  tempted  to  do  such  things,  but  for 
my  own  part,  I  do  not  care  to  lend  myself  to  aid 
them.  The  question  still  remains — how  does  this 
affect  your  sister?  " 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  do  you  purpose  driving 
me  mad  ?  "  cried  Carew,  flinging  his  empty  glass  into 
the  fireplace,  and  leaping  to  his  feet  in  the  access 
of  ungoverned  passion.  "  You  have  stripped  me  bare 
as  a  bone  and  brought  me  to  shame  and  dishonour; 
now  you  sit  laughing  at  your  handiwork." 

"  Your  own,  sir, "  said  the  Vicomte  sternly.  "  These 
heroics  will  not  serve  their  purpose;  the  question 
still  remains  unanswered.  I  would  not  willingly  take 
on  my  shoulders  any  portion  of  your  disgrace,  though 
indeed  I  think  you  would  not  be  loath  to  let 
me  bear  it  all.  In  fine,  what  do  you  purpose 
doing?" 

"Oh!  you  are  a  rare  moralist." 

"  There  is  not  a  better  in  the  world.  From  the 
pulpit  of  my  own  transgressions  I  shall  read  you 
an  excellent  sermon.  But,  again,  this  is  not  to  the 
purpose.  I  would  have  you  know,  my  excellent 


228  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

cousin,  I  love  your  sister  and  would  willingly  make 
her  my  wife." 

"Before  that  I  will  see  you " 

"  You  may  spare  yourself  the  trouble.  Were  the 
lady  willing,  I  think  not  that  I  should  ask  your  favour. 
But  she  is  not  willing.  I  fear  she  loves  a  better  man 
who  deserves  her  better — for  which  I  do  not  find 
fault  with  her  taste." 

"You  appear  to  have  studied  my  family  affairs 
to  some  purpose,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Orme  is  a  better  man  than  I,  nor  would  I 
willingly  do  him  an  injury,"  continued  De  Laprade 
softly,  "but  all  things  are  fair  in  love,  and  I  think 
I  must  ask  your  help." 

"What  hath  Mr.  Orme  to  do  with  the  matter? 
You  put  more,  sir,  on  me  than  I  can  bear,  and  by 
heaven,  I  will  put  up  with  your  gibes  no  longer. 
I  am  not  a  schoolboy  to  be  lectured  by  a  bully." 

"  I  have  told  you  that  we  will  not  quarrel.  I  ask 
not  your  friendship  but  your  help,  and  it  may  be 
also  much  to  your  own  advantage.  Therefore  listen 
to  me  with  all  the  patience  you  can  command.  I 
am  mad  enough  to  love  Miss  Carew — I,  the  pro- 
digal, the  spendthrift,  whose  career  was  run  before 
I  was  a  man,  but  so  it  is !  She  is  much  under  your 
influence — the  wise  and  prudent  elder  brother.  Lend 
me  your  assistance,  not  to  coerce  her  affections  or 
thwart  her  will,  for  by  heaven,  I  would  not  wrong  her 
tender  heart!  but  to  bring  her  with  all  kindness  to 
think  favourably  of  her  poor  kinsman,  and  in  the  end 
it  may  be  to  return  his  passion.  Hear  me  to  the 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  22Q 

conclusion.  I  would  not  buy  your  help — you  would 
not  sell  your  aid.  We  both  love  the  rattle  of  the 
dice-box.  On  the  one  side  I  place  my  gains,  the 
rich  lands,  the  fair  demesnes,  the  ancestral  house, 
the  broad  pieces — and  on  the  other  you  will  stake 
your  persuasive  speeches  and  fraternal  affection. 
Let  chance  decide  the  fate:  I  would  not  do  dishonour 
to  your  sister  even  by  a  thought.  I  do  not  think 
the  stakes  unequal;  why  should  you?" 

Carew  stared  at  the  speaker,  unable  to  gather 
his  meaning,  and  said  never  a  word. 

"  Why,  my  friend,  there  is  your  chance  of  redemp- 
tion," said  the  Vicomte,  taking  up  the  box  and 
rattling  it  gaily,  "  three  is  the  number  of  the  Graces; 
three  throws  for  fortune  and  love ;  three  throws  for 
honour,  riches,  and  reputation.  Ah!  there  is  a  royal 
stake,  and  heaven  send  me  favour." 

"This  is  but  a  piece  of  midsummer  fooling;  you 
do  not  mean  this?" 

"  Truly  I  am  in  a  sad  and  serious  vein.  Your 
barren  acres  grow  heavy  on  my  back  and  I  would 
be  rid  of  them." 

"  Then   have  with  you, "  cried  the  other  eagerly. 

But  hardly  had  he  spoken  than  the  sound  of 
footsteps  was  heard  on  the  stone  passage,  and  an 
importunate  knocking  upon  the  door.  Carew  rose 
to  his  feet,  pushing  back  his  chair  with  an  oath. 
The  Vicomte  did  not  stir. 

"It  is  best  to  see  your  impatient  visitor,"  he  said. 
"Do  not  hurry  fortune." 

Carew    went    to    the    door    and    threw    it    open. 


230  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  is  your  errand  at  this  unseasonable 
hour?  "  he  said,  peering  out  into  the  darkness  which 
screened  the  intruder. 

"My  errand  is  with  Vicomte  de  Laprade,"  said 
a  voice,  "and  is  of  the  most  urgent.  I  must  see 
him  immediately." 

"  Ah !  that  is  the  true  Israelite,  Mr.  Orme, "  said  the 
Vicomte,  in  his  usual  nonchalant  tone,  without  turning 
in  his  chair.  "  You  are  arrived  most  opportunely. 
This  is  the  Temple  of  Fortune  and  here  are  her 
worshippers. " 

"  This  is  no  time  for  jesting,  my  lord,"  said  Gervase, 
gravely.  "I  have  come  to  carry  you  to  the  guard- 
house, where  I  can  promise  you  no  favourable 
reception.  Our  hearts  have  been  sadly  stirred; 
your  life  even  is  in  danger." 

"  So  much  the  more  reason  that  we  should  decide 
this  matter  now.  Look  you,  Mr.  Orme,  my  friend 
and  I  have  a  difference,  the  nature  of  which  I  cannot 
now  make  clear  to  you,  though  it  may  also  concern 
you  nearly,  and  we  have  agreed  to  leave  it  to  the 
arbitrament  of  chance.  A  few  minutes  more  or 
less  will  not  imperil  the  safety  of  the  city.  Pray 
be  seated,  and  see  how  fortune  deals  her  favours." 

"  Oh !  this  is  past  a  jest, "  cried  Gervase,  u  I  tell 
you,  my  lord,  you  are  in  deadly  peril." 

a  And  I  tell  you,  sir,  this  is  a  matter  of  more 
importance.  Nay,  my  good  friend" — and  here  he 
held  out  his  hand,  "  my  mind  is  set  on  this,  and  I 
pray  you  to  indulge  me." 

Though    his  eyes    and  lips  laughed,  there  was  a 


A   GAME  OF  CHANCE.  231 

serious  undertone  in  his  voice,  and  after  hesitat- 
ing for  a  moment,  Gervase  finally  said,"  Ten 
minutes  you  may  have,  my  lord,  but  with  your 
pardon,  I  shall  wait  without.  My  mind  is  full  of 
care  and  my  heart  is  heavy  as  a  stone.  I  can  take 
no  part  in  this.  I  have  seen  this  day  that  which 
I  shall  not  forget  did  I  live  a  thousand  years. 
Good  night,  Mr.  Carew.  My  lord,  you  will  not 
keep  me  waiting." 

His  steps  rang  along  the  stone  pavement;  then 
there  was  the  sound  of  an  opening  door  and  the 
whispering  of  voices  in  the  basement  hall. 

a  'Jacob  was  a  plain  man  and  dwelt  in  tents,'" 
murmured  De  Laprade.  "  Come,  Carew,  we  who 
tempt  the  fickle  goddess  must  not  sleep.  Jacob 
yonder  would  filch  my  birthright,  and  I  will  not 
lose  the  lovely  Rachel." 

Carew,  who  had  been  as  one  bewildered  and 
suddenly  awakened  out  of  a  dream  with  the  terror 
of  it  still  upon  him,  drew  a  chair  to  the  table  and 
caught  up  the  dice-box  with  a  trembling  hand.  As 
his  fingers  closed  upon  the  box,  his  face  grew 
deadly  pale ;  his  heart  stood  still  in  his  breast  in  an 
overmastering  agony  of  fear  and  hope  and  hate. 
To  him  this  meant  everything  in  the  world.  The 
man  opposite  to  him  had  stripped  him  naked — the 
man  whose  smile  stabbed  him  like  a  knife,  and  whom 
he  hated  with  a  bitterness  of  hatred  that  he  had  no 
language  to  measure.  Should  he  retrieve  his  for- 
tune, and  on  how  little  that  depended,  not  all 
the  powers  on  earth  would  again  tempt  him  to  such 


232  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

unspeakable  folly.  A  mere  gull  who  had  flung 
away  his  inheritance  before  he  had  possessed  it! 
The  happy  chance  of  redemption  had  come  to  him 
unexpectedly.  What  had  moved  De  Laprade  too 
make  this  strange  and  curious  proposal,  he  did  not 
stop  to  ask,  he  did  not  care  to  know.  It  was 
enough  for  him  that  it  had  been  made.  He  knew 
that  he  could  exert  no  influence  on  his  sister's  mind ; 
that  his  intercession  would  rather  injure  than  advance 
the  cause  he  advocated.  That  was  the  Vicomte's 
business.  He  was  a  gambler  and  accustomed  to  take 
the  chances,  and  it  was  he  who  had  proposed  the 
stakes.  He  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes  to 
clear  away  the  mists;  the  room  seemed  full  of 
moving  haze  through  which  the  candles  burned 
with  a  feeble  and  uncertain  light.  He  drew  a  deep 
breath. 

The  first  throw  Carew  won ;  the  second  fell  to 
the  Vicomte.  Then  there  happened  a  curious  thing — 
when  Carew  was  about  to  throw  for  the  third  time, 
the  Vicomte  stooped  down  to  lift  his  handkerchief 
from  the  floor  where  it  had  fallen  a  moment  before. 
While  he  did  this  somewhat  clumsily  for  one  in 
general  so  dexterous,  the  dice  rattled  on  the  table. 
Making  a  slight  motion  with  his  fingers  Carew, 
hardly  pausing,  cried  "Sixes." 

The  Vicomte  slowly  raised  his  head.  "  Your  play 
improves,  sir,"  he  said  drily;  "that  was  a  lucky 
throw.  Come,  sir,  you  are  not  yet  out  of  the 
wood,  and  perhaps  I  shall  yet  see  you  through." 
Then  he  threw  himself.  "  By  all  the  saints,  the 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  233 

Venus!  This  grows  interesting.  We  must  have 
one  more  cast  for  fortune." 

"The  devil's  in  them,"  cries  Carew,  his  eyes 
fairly  aglow  and  his  lips  twitching  like  one  in 
a  fit. 

This  time  the  Vicomte  won.  "I  knew  how  it 
would  be, "  he  said,  with  an  air  of  pensive  sadness ; 
"  I  have  no  luck,  I  can  do  no  more. " 

Carew  laughed  loudly,  almost  as  if  this  last  stroke 
had  touched  his  brain.  "  Luck,  what  more  would 
you  have?  Here  have  I  been  sitting  for  three 
weeks  while  you  plucked  me  like  a  hen  feather  by 
feather,  with  a  smile  on  your  face,  and  I  know 
not  what  devil's  craft  in  your  fingers." 

"  These  are  foolish  words,  sir,  for  which  I  will 
not  ask  you  to  account.  To  talk  of  craft  comes 

but  ill  from  one  who  himself "  Here  he  stopped 

and  looked  at  Carew  steadily.  "  God  knows  I  am 
but  a  pitiful  fellow  myself,  and  yet  I  would  I  had 
never  seen  your  face." 

The  words  were  spoken  slowly,  with  an  emphasis 
that  carried  home  their  hidden  meaning ;  they  struck 
home  like  a  knife.  Then  without  warning  Carew 
reached  suddenly  across  the  table,  and  struck  the 
Vicomte  a  blow  with  his  closed  nand  fairly  on 
the  lips. 

"  You  are  a  liar  and  a  cheat, "  he  said,  "  and  I 
will  kill  you  like  a  dog." 

For  a  moment  or  more  the  Vicomte  did  not  stir; 
apparently  he  was  afraid  to  trust  himself  to  speak ; 
only  with  his  handkerchief,  which  he  all  the  time 


234  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

carried  in  his  hand,  he  wiped  the  thin  trickle  of 
blood  from  his  lips.  Then  he  rose  to  his  feet  and 
going  over  to  the  door,  turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 
Thereafter  he  whipped  out  his  sword  and  advanced 
into  the  middle  of  the  room.  There  was  a  high 
colour  in  his  cheeks  and  his  eyes  shone  with  a  fine 
glow  in  them.  Otherwise  his  manner  was  perfectly 
calm,  and  his  voice  came  slowly  and  with  distinct 
utterance.  "  Mr.  Carew, "  he  said,  "  no  man  living 
will  dare  to  do  what  you  have  done  to-night  and 
live  to  tell  it.  I  would  have  borne  with  much 
for  your  sister's  sake;  here  not  even  she  can  save 
you.  And  yet  it  is  almost  a  dishonour  to  cross 
swords  with  you  and  treat  you  as  a  gentleman — 
you,  whom  I  have  myself  seen  to  cheat  and  cozen 
like  a  common  tavern-brawler.  And  you  have 
dared  to  use  these  opprobrious  words  to  me — to  me 
who  did  my  best  to  return  your  losses  without 
offending  your  nice  sense  of  honour.  Now,  sir, 
draw  your  sword  and  say  your  prayers,  for  I  think 
you  are  going  to  die." 

Carew  was  not  wanting  in  physical  courage,  nor 
backward  at  any  time  in  a  quarrel.  But  at  this 
moment  it  was  his  own  vehement  and  overmaster- 
ing desire — a  desire  too  deep  for  any  mere  speech — 
to  find  an  outlet  for  his  passion  of  hate  and  shame 
in  a  struggle  with  the  man  who  held  his  fortune  and 
good  name  in  his  hand.  To  hold  him  at  his  mercy 
was  at  this  time  his  dearest  wish  on  earth.  He  drew 
his  sword,  and  taking  his  ground  lowered  the  point 
sullenly  as  the  Vicomte  saluted  with  his  weapon. 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  235 

Then  their  blades  were  crossed.  The  light  was 
faint  and  low,  for  the  candles  had  nearly  burnt 
themselves  out,  and  as  the  spacious  chamber  rang 
with  the  clash  of  the  sword  blades,  the  deep  shadows 
came  and  went  with  a  grotesque  and  everchanging 
motion.  Carew  had  the  advantage  in  the  length  of 
reach  and  once  he  touched  his  opponent  in  the  arm, 
but  after  a  few  passes  he  saw  he  had  met  his 
superior,  and  a  feeling  of  great  dread  overtook  him. 
How  he  hated  the  man  with  the  cold,  impassive 
face  and  disdainful  smile!  But  for  that  bit  of 
glittering  steel  that  guarded  him  like  a  wall,  how 
gladly  he  would  have  taken  him  by  the  throat  and 
glutted  himself  with  vengeance.  And  he  saw  that 
the  Vicomte  played  with  him  as  if  unwilling  to 
strike  him  down  too  soon,  and  that,  too,  added  to 
his  passion  of  fury  and  hate. 

The  Vicomte  still  stood  on  the  defensive  and 
parried  his  thrusts  with  the  greatest  ease  in  the 
world.  Again  and  again  he  tried  to  enter  upon 
his  guard,  but  always  with  the  same  result.  Then 
there  came  a  violent  knocking  upon  the  door  and 
the  sound  of  voices  raised  in  alarm  and  expostu- 
lation. 

"  We  must  end  this,"  cries  the  Vicomte  deliber- 
ately parrying  a  thrust  in  tierce,  and  almost  at  the 
same  time  Carew  passaged  rapidly,  and  catching  the 
Vicomte's  sword  in  his  left  hand,  buried  his  own 
sword  to  the  hilt  in  the  Vicomte.  The  stricken 
man  swung  round,  threw  up  his  hands,  and  fell  in 
a  heap  to  the  floor  without  uttering  a  sound. 


236  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

Gervase  had  left  the  room  with  contempt  and 
indignation  strongly  present  in  his  mind.  It  had 
seemed  incredible  to  him  that  men  should  become 
absorbed  in  these  trifles,  surrounded  by  the  horrors 
that  he  daily  witnessed,  and  lose  themselves  wholly 
in  this  degrading  passion.  No  doubt  it  was  none 
of  his  business — so  he  told  himself — but  his  sense 
of  fitness  revolted  at  it.  He  had  reached  the  outer 
door  and  his  hand  was  on  the  lock  to  open  it, 
when  he  heard  a  door  open  on  the  staircase  above, 
and  a  voice  calling  in  low  tones,  "  Is  that  Mr. 
Orme?" 

"It  is  I,  Miss  Carew,"  Gervase  answered,  feeling 
that  the  hope  of  this  rencontre  was  the  real 
reason  why  he  had  left  the  Vicomte  to  decide  his 
matter  of  importance  by  himself. 

Dorothy  came  down  the  stairs  holding  a  taper  in 
her  hand — Gervase  could  see  the  traces  of  tears 
on  her  cheeks,  and  he  was  greatly  struck  by  the 
change  that  the  last  week  had  made  in  her  looks. 
Not  that  her  beauty  was  in  any  way  dimmed  or 
diminished,  but  sorrow  and  care  had  set  their  seal 
upon  it. 

"Swartz  has  told  me  the  news,"  she  said,  "and 
the  horror  of  it  gives  me  no  rest.  Will  they  not 
bring  them  into  the  City?" 

"  God  knows  it  is  what  we  all  desire, "  Gervase 
answered,  "  but  it  is  not  possible.  To  bring  them 
in  would  mean  that  we  have  fought  and  you  have 
suffered  for  nothing;  it  would  but  make  their  fate 
ours.  Londonderry  must  not  fall." 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  237 

He  continued  in  a  sad  constrained  tone,  "  I  think  I 
shall  never  forget  till  I  die  what  I  have  seen  to- 
day. There  are  children  there,  and  babies  at  the 
breast,  and  tender  women,  and,  Miss  Carew,  we 
must  let  them  die.  We  dare  not  take  them  in.  There 
is  hardly  food  for  a  fortnight  longer  and  then " 

"  Then, "  said  Dorothy,  "  we  can  die.  I  almost 
think  I  shall  be  glad  to  die." 

"Nay,"  said  Gervase  taking  her  hand,  "if  all 
were  as  brave  and  strong  as  you  are !  Macpherson 
says  that  yours  is  the  boldest  heart  in  the  city." 

"  He  does  not  know  me, "  Dorothy  answered, 
withdrawing  her  hand  with  a  faint  gleam  of  her 
old  humour  kindling  in  her  eyes  ;  "he  does  not 
understand  women.  I  am  a  poor  coward.  But 
why  should  I  talk  of  myself?  Will  nothing  be 
attempted  to  save  the  poor  wretches  who  are  now 
below  the  walls  ?  " 

"  Ay, "  said  Gervase  pausing,  "  it  is  proposed  to 
make  use  of  the  prisoners  we  have  taken,  and, 
indeed,  that  is  the  reason  I  am  here  to-night.  The 
Vicomte  must  quit  your  house  and  take  up  his 
abode  in  the  guard-house,  but  I  trust  not  for  long. " 

"  They  will  not  injure  him  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,  and  I  do  not  think  you  need  fear 
for  him.  My  lord  Netterville  hath  writ  to  De  Rosen, 
who  is  surely  a  devil,  to  tell  him  how  it  stands 
with  himself  and  the  other  prisoners,  and  I  do  not 
doubt  his  letter  will  move  him  more  than  the  voice 
of  humanity,  assisted  as  it  is  by  the  gallows  we 
have  now  erected." 


238  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"There  is  nothing  but  horror  on  horror,"  said. 
Dorothy.  "  It  is  just,  but  it  is  hard  to  bear.  And 
I  think  I  could  bear  it  all  but  for  the  great  trouble 
I  told  you  of — but  why  should  I  thrust  my  own 
private  griefs  on  a  stranger?" 

"  Nay,  no  stranger ;  your  troubles  are  all  mine. 
You  know  that  I  love  you  better  than  my  life." 

A  moment  before  he  would  not  have  ventured 
to  make  this  speech,  but  something  in  her  voice  had 
for  the  first  time  awakened  a  wild  hope  in  his 
breast.  She  looked  at  him  with  a  frank  and  honest 
look.  "Yes,"  she  answered,  "I  think  you  love  me 
better  than  I  deserve,  but  this  is  no  time  to  talk 
or  think  of  such  things." 

"But,  Dorothy—" 

"Nay,  I  will  not  have  a  word.  Listen!  Oh 
God  !  what  is  that  ?  They  have  quarrelled,  and  that 
is  the  sound  of  swords." 

The  clash  of  steel  could  be  heard  plainly,  and 
the  sound  of  feet  moving  rapidly. 

"  Remain  where  you  are, "  said  Gervase,  hasten- 
ing down  the  passage ;  "  I  shall  prevent  this. " 

Dorothy  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  passage,  her 
hands  held  tightly  against  her  breast ;  the  taper  had 
fallen  to  the  floor,  and  she  was  in  darkness.  Then 
she  heard  the  voice  of  Gervase  at  the  door. 

"  Out  of  my  way  or  I  will  run  you  through ;  I 
must  enter." 

"  By  your  leave  you  shall  not.  My  master  must 
fight  this  out;  I've  taught  him  to  fence,  and  I'll  see 
that  he  gets  fair  play." 


A   GAME   OF  CHANCE.  239 

It  was  the  voice  of  Swartz.  Gervase  had  found 
the  man  at  the  door  listening  to  the  sound  of  the 
strife  within. 

"  Out  of  my  way, "  said  Gervase,  losing  his  temper. 

"  Damn  you !  I  tell  you  I  shall  not  stir.  The 
Frenchman  hath  robbed  my  master  and  he'll  pay 
dearly  for  it  to-night.  No  man  in  Londonderry  will 
pass  the  door  till  he  hath  settled  with  that 
thief." 

Gervase  was  in  no  humour  for  temporizing  at 
this  moment.  He  caught  the  old  servant  by  the 
throat  and  with  a  quick  movement  hurled  him  to 
the  other  side  of  the  passage.  Then  placing  his 
shoulder  against  the  door  and  exerting  all  his 
strength,  the  strong  framework  fell  in  with  a  crash. 
The  room  was  in  complete  darkness  and  he  stood 
to  listen.  There  was  not  a  sound.  Then  Dorothy 
came  down  the  passage  with  a  light. 

"You  must  not  come  any  further,  Miss  Carew, " 
said  Gervase,  advancing  to  meet  her,  with  a  white 
face.  "I  am  sure  something  has  happened."  He 
took  the  light  from  her  and  entered  the  room, 
Swartz  who  had  picked  himself  up  muttering  a 
malediction,  following  close  on  his  heels.  Lying  in 
the  middle  of  the  room  in  a  dark  pool  of  blood 
was  De  Laprade,  while  Jasper  Carew  stood  over 
the  body,  with  the  point  of  his  rapier  on  the  ground 
and  his  hands  resting  on  the  handle. 

"I  killed  him  in  fair  fight,"  he  said  as  Gervase 
came  into  the  room,  and  running  over,  knelt  down 
by  the  fallen  man.  Gervase  opened  the  Vicomte's 


240  THE   CRIMSON    SIGN. 

coat  and  placed  his  hand  on  his  heart;  it  was  still 
beating  feebly. 

"  He  is  not  dead  yet.  For  God's  sake  run  for 
the  surgeon ;  he  may  yet  be  saved, "  he  cried,  turn- 
ing to  Swartz  who  stood  behind  him. 

"I'll  not  stir  a  step  to  save  his  life,"  the  old  man 
answered  doggedly. 

"  Do  as  you  are  bidden,  sir, "  said  Jasper,  without 
moving,  "  and  make  what  haste  you  can. "  Then 
he  went  over  and  sat  down  by  the  table,  looking  on 
coldly  as  the  man  went  out  and  Gervase  tried  to 
stop  the  bleeding  with  his  handkerchief.  Dorothy 
had  crept  into  the  room,  pale  and  frightened,  and 
knelt  down  beside  Gervase. 

"  Is  he  dead  ? "  she  said  with  a  gasp. 

"  No,  he  still  lives.     I  can  hear  his  heart  beating. " 

"  I .  would  give  my  own  life  a  hundred  times  over 
to  save  his.  He  must  not  die;  I  say,  he  must 
not  die." 

"It  is  as  God  wills,"  answered  Gervase  gravely. 
"  I  think  he  is  coming  round. " 

The  Vicomte  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  a  faint 
smile  of  recognition  as  his  eyes  fell  on  Dorothy ; 
she  lifted  his  hand  and  pressed  it  within  her  own; 
then  she  shuddered  at  the  touch — it  was  clammy 
with  blood.  No  one  spoke  or  stirred — only  the 
feeble  tide  of  life  appeared  to  be  slowly  returning. 
The  minutes  seemed  to  drag  themselves  into  hours 
while  they  waited  for  the  coming  of  the  surgeon. 
Dorothy  had  placed  her  hand  under  De  Laprade's 
head,  and  anxiously  watched  the  deathlike  pallor 


A  GAME  OF   CHANCE.  241 

disappearing    from    his    cheeks.     Her    heart    leapt 
joyfully  as  she  saw  him  attempting  to  speak. 

"'Twas  a  fair  fight  but — but,"  and  he  spoke  as 
if  communing  with  himself,  "he  should  not  have 
caught  my  sword." 

Gervase  looked  suddenly  up  at  Carew  where  he 
sat  by  the  table  looking  on  sullenly,  and  he  was 
filled  with  horror  at  the  awful  likeness  that  he  bore 
to  the  old  man,  his  grandfather,  whose  frowning 
face  he  had  seen  in  its  death  agony.  It  was  the 
same  face,  the  same  dark  passionate  look,  trans- 
formed from  age  to  youth.  He  had  never  noticed 
the  likeness  before  and  he  wondered  at  it  now. 

Jasper  rose  and  coming  over  looked  down  at  the 
Vicomte  with  a  look  of  bitter  hate.  "  The  man  is 
a  liar,"  he  said;  "a  liar  while  he  lived  and  a  liar 
now  that  he  is  dying,  for  I  hope  that  I  have  killed 
him.  I  fought  him  fairly,  and  I  should  have  stabbed 
him  where  he  sat.  I  shall  answer  the  world  for 
what  I  have  done." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  room,  as 
Swartz  and  the  surgeon  entered  it.  The  latter,  a 
tall,  gaunt  Scotchman  with  an  exasperating  precision 
and  judicial  slowness  of  manner,  began  to  examine 
his  patient  carefully ;  it  seemed  as  if  he  never  would 
have  done.  Then  he  turned  to  Gervase  and  spoke 
almost  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  entered 
the  room. 

"Wherefore  did  you  drive  the  puir  laddie  sae 
hard?  less  would  have  done.  You  young  callants 
have  no  sense." 

16 


242  THE   CRIMSON    SIGN.     . 

u  Will  he  die  ?  "  said  Gervase  eagerly. 

"How  can  I  tell  you  that?  I'm  no'  a  prophet, 
but  I'm  thinking  his  vitals  have  not  been  touched. 
These  small  swords  make  clean  work;  they're  no' 
effectual  like  the  pike  or  the  broad  sword — and  he 
was  a  likely  lad.  I  think  we  may  even  bring  him 
round  yet,  but  he  must  not  be  stirred.  Have  ye  not 
unco'  guid  sport  outside  that  ye  must  begin  to  throttle 
ither  within?" 

"  God  knows  that  is  true,  but  you  do  not  under- 
stand." 

"Nae  doubt,  nae  doubt,"  answered  the  other 
drily,  "  but  I  understand  the  lad  has  gotten  a  whin- 
ger through  his  body,  and  that  is  a  fact  anybody  can 
understand.  Howsoever  the  care  of  the  body  is  my 
concern,  and  my  two  hands  are  full  enough.  I'm  tell't 
you're  mighty  quick  with  your  weapon,  Mr.  Orme." 

u  This  is  none  of  my  work, "  said  Gervase.  "  I 
would  have  given  my  right  hand  to  prevent  it." 

The  surgeon  looked  doubtfully  at  Swartz  who 
stood  near  with  his  hands  behind  his  back.  "  Why! 
that  body  there — but  it  is  none  of  my  business. 
We'll  even  make  him  comfortable  now  and  we  can 
talk  more  about  it  in  the  morn,  for  I'm  thinking 
they  must  hear  of  this  work  outside.  This  bonny 
lassie  will  be  my  care  next,"  he  continued,  turning 
to  Dorothy.  "This  is  no  place  for  you,  my  dear," 
he  said,  laying  his  large  hand  with  a  rough  sympathy 
on  her  shoulder. 

"Indeed  I  could  rest  nowhere  else  in  the  world. 
Do  you  think  he  will  live?" 


A   GAME  OF  CHANCE.  243 

"I'm  sure  he'll  no'  die  if  your  sweet  heart  will 
save  him.  He's  a  gay,  likely  lad  and  he'll  give  a 
deal  of  trouble  in  the  world  yet  before  he  leaves 
it,  if  he  keeps  clear  of  small  swords  in  the  future." 

"  Thank  God  for  that ! "  cried  Dorothy,  bursting 
into  tears  for  the  first  time. 

Saunderson  looked  at  her  with  a  grim  smile  on 
his  homely  features. 

"Women  sometimes  thank  God  for  unco'  little. 
But  he'll  do  for  the  now,  and  I'll  be  back  in  an 
hour.  Come,  Mr.  Orme,  you'll  see  me  to  the  door, 
for  I  have  some  directions  to  give  you  and  my  time 
is  precious." 

Gervase  went  out  with  him  to  the  door  and  they 
stood  on  the  great  stone  steps  together.  Then  the 
surgeon  laid  his  two  broad  hands  on  Gervase's 
shoulders  and  looked  at  him  steadily.  "Look  ye 
here,"  he  said,  "I  learnt  the  practice  of  medicine  in 
the  University  of  Glasgow,  but  there's  ane  thing 
I  learnt  since.  I'm  no  sure  I've  got  to  the  bottom 
of  this  devildum,  but  I'm  sure  o'  this,  that  if  yon 
chiel  dies,  the  lassie  will  even  break  her  bonnie 
heart  and  the  same  small  sword  will  have  killed 
them  both.  Swartz  says  the  deed  was  yours,  but 
he's  a  fause  loon  to  look  at,  and  I  ken  now  it's  a 
lee.  I  ken  you  love  her  too  well — I've  learnt  that 
too — to  do  her  scaith,  and  I  leave  him  in  your  hands 
till  the  morning.  When  a  woman's  in  love  she's 
no'  to  be  trusted.  I'll  send  you  a  draught  and  ye'll 
see  to  it  that  he  gets  it." 

He  left  Gervase  hardly  understanding  the  speech 


244  THE  CRIMSON    SIGN. 

he  had  heard.  Then  its  full  meaning  dawned  on 
him.  Till  now  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that 
Dorothy  had  cared  for  De  Laprade,  but  the  mere 
suggestion  awoke  a  thousand  trivial  recollections 
that  lent  colour  to  the  thought.  He  had  believed 
that  her  great  distress  was  only  due  to  the  fact  that 
her  guest  and  kinsman  had  fallen  by  her  brother's 
hand.  But  if  it  was  otherwise — if  she  loved  De 
Laprade  and  looked  on  himself  only  as  a  friend — 
it  took  the  strength  out  of  his  heart  to  think  of  it. 
This  great  passion,  the  first  that  he  had  known,  had 
transformed  his  life  and  inspired  him  in  the  midst 
of  all  the  dangers  and  privations  he  was  passing 
through.  And  now  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  hopes 
had  fallen  like  a  house  of  cards.  He  was  a  fool  to 
think  that  she  should  care  for  him — and  yet  who 
could  tell?  So  with  hope  that  was  not  altogether 
dead,  and  doubt,  and  a  touch  of  jealousy,  as  has  been 
since  love  came  first  into  the  world,  he  went  back 
to  help  his  stricken  rival. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

OF  HOW  THE  VICOMTE  WAS  BROUGHT  BACK  TO  LIFE. 

FOR  several  days  De  Laprade  hovered  between 
life  and  death,  apparently  conscious  and  that  was 
all.  Dorothy  hardly  left  his  bedside  night  or  day, 
attending  upon  him  with  sedulous  care  and  devotion. 
Seeing  that  she  was  about  to  give  way  under  the 
strain,  Saunderson  took  affairs  into  his  own  hands 
and  forbade  her  the  room  altogether.  While  she 
had  been  in  the  sick  chamber  De  Laprade  had  used 
to  follow  her  with  his  eyes— eyes  in  which  there 
was  little  sign  of  intelligence — but  now  that  she 
came  no  more,  he  sank  into  a  deep  and  deathlike 
lethargy  from  which  he  seldom  awakened.  Whether 
for  Dorothy's  sake  or  from  the  nature  of  the  case, 
Saunderson  gave  up  much  of  his  time  to  the  wounded 
Viscount,  and  invariably  reported  his  patient's  pro- 
gress to  the  anxious  girl  who  was  awaiting  his 
departure  from  the  sick  chamber.  So  far  from 
adopting  the  physician's  usual  diplomacy,  he  had 
endeavoured  to  keep  up  her  spirits  from  the  begin- 
ning, assuring  her  that  with  skill  and  care,  ill  as  he 
seemed,  he  would  yet  dance  at  her  wedding. 

"  You  will  see,"  he  had  said,  with  rough  kindliness 
"  there  are  twa  bodies  tha'll  no  die  lichtly — he  that's 


246  THE  CRIMSON    SIGN. 

gain  to  be  married  and  he  that's  gain  to  be  hangit ; 
and  when  this  braw  callant  hath  had  both  prospects 
before  him  he'll  no  leave  us  this  gait.  He  should 
have  been  a  corp  three  days  syne  by  every  rule  of 
the  faculty,  but  yon  bit  thing  never  touched  his 
vitals  after  all.  You'll  no  greet  your  bonnie  een 
out,  Miss  Carew,  but  just  tak  your  rest  and  leave 
him  to  Providence  and  me." 

For  Saunderson  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  Vicomte  was  Dorothy's  lover,  and  that  in  some 
way  or  other,  that  was  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  in 
which  he  had  been  wounded.  He  had  at  first  believed 
that  Gervase  had  been  the  assailant,  but  Dorothy 
had  undeceived  him  on  that  head ;  but  on  the  other 
she  had  remained  entirely  silent  and  made  no  effort 
to  remove  his  misunderstanding.  She  had,  however, 
seen,  or  thought  she  had  seen,  through  the  friendly 
deception  of  the  surgeon,  and  when  she  had  been 
closed  out  of  the  sick  room  she  had  believed  the 
end  was  approaching.  She  had  not  understood, 
though  she  had  guessed,  the  nature  of  the  tragedy 
that  had  been  enacted  between  her  brother  and  her 
cousin;  and  though  she  was  not  aware  of  all  the 
circumstances  she  had  come  to  think  she  owed  the 
Vicomte  a  great  debt.  She  had  remembered  every 
word  of  their  brief  conversation  an  hour  or  two 
before  the  brawl,  and  knowing  his  high  sense  of 
honour,  she  had  laid  the  blame  entirely  on  her 
brother.  All  that  was  passing  without  seemed  like 
a  dream  now — only  the  death  chamber  was  real 
to  her  and  this  tragedy  with  its  deep  and  indelible 


THE  VICOMTE  BROUGHT  BACK  TO  LIFE.      247 

stain  of  guilt.  She  had  felt  that  she  was  grieved 
for  the  wretches  who  had  been  driven  to  starve 
under  the  walls,  and  she  felt  rejoiced  when  she  heard 
that  De  Rosen  had  relented,  but  she  felt  also  that 
she  had  not  realized  the  news.  It  seemed  wholly 
remote.  This  domestic  tragedy,  so  near  and  so 
terrible,  entirely  filled  her  mind  with  its  abiding 
horror.  She  felt  there  was  no  sacrifice  she  would 
not  willingly  make  to  avert  this  calamity,  and  each 
day  she  waited  with  a  suspense  that  was  intolerable 
for  the  coming  of  the  surgeon  from  the  sick  room. 
Even  Jasper's  treachery  had  passed  into  the  back- 
ground in  the  presence  of  this  new  and  more 
appalling  crime.  Gervase  Orme  had  called  every 
day  but  she  had  refused  to  see  him,  for  though  she 
yearned  for  sympathy  in  her  distress  her  pride  com- 
pelled her  to  nurse  her  sorrow  in  secret.  Jasper 
came  and  went  with  perfect  sang  froid;  he  seemed 
to  be  the  only  person  in  the  household  to  whom 
the  wounded  man's  condition  was  a  matter  of 
indifference. 

So  the  days  went  past  and  there  seemed  to  be 
little  or  no  change  in  the  Vicomte's  condition. 
But  at  length  he  recovered  perfect  consciousness 
and  asked  eagerly  for  Dorothy.  It  was  indeed  his 
first  question  after  he  recovered  speech.  Saunder- 
son  was  in  the  room  and  seated  by  his  patient's 
side  feeling  his  thin  and  languid  pulse,  when  De 
Laprade  suddenly  looked  at  him  with  an  eager 
and  questioning  gaze.  The  change  was  so  sudden 
that  the  surgeon  was  startled.  "I  saw  Dorothy — 


248  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

Miss  Carew — but  now,  "  said  the  Vicomte.  u  Where 
is  she?" 

"  She'll  no  be  long,  my  friend ;  just  keep  yourself 
cool  and  ye'll  see  her  the  now.  That's  a  good 
laddie." 

"  I  have  little  time  to  spare  and  I  must  see  her 
before  I  die.  " 

"  Yc'll  no  die  this  time.  Ye'll  scratch  grey 
hairs  yet,  if  ye  keep  yersel'  blate  and  dinna  fash 
without  reason. " 

"  You're  a  good  fellow,  "  said  De  Laprade,  with 
a  faint  smile  on  his  thin,  wasted  face,  "  I  think  I 
have  seen  you  here  in  the  room  with  me  for  months, 
but  I  will  not  trouble  you  much  longer.  Now 
bring  Miss  Carew  here  and  complete  your  kind- 
ness. " 

"  Ye  must  not  excite  yoursel'  in  that  fashion. 
Ye  have  been  ower  long  in  coming  round,  and  we 
maun  keep  ye  here  when  we  hae  you.  Now  drink 
this  like  a  good  laddie,  and  I'll  even  fetch  her 
mysel.'  " 

He  poured  out  a  draught  and  held  it  to  the 
Vicomte's  lips,  who  drank  it  obediently.  Saunder- 
son  believed  that  the  crisis  had  come  and  though 
he  hoped  that  he  was  wrong  for  Dorothy's  sake, 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  this  was  the  last 
feeble  flicker  of  consciousness  in  his  patient  before 
the  end.  As  he  left  the  room  De  Laprade  followed 
him  with  the  same  eager  gaze.  He  found  Dorothy 
in  the  corridor  and  told  her  what  had  happened. 
"  And  now,  "  he  said,  "  ye'll  just  keep  him  quiet 


THE  VICOMTE  BROUGHT   BACK   TO   LIFE.      249 

and  humour  him  like  a  baby.  Let  him  gang  his 
ain  gait  and  say  'Ay'  to  all  his  clavers.  I'd  rather 
you  were  elsewhere,  but  he'll  no  bide  till  he  has 
seen  you." 

It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  Dorothy  entered 
the  sick  room.  There  was  something  in  the  surgeon's 
manner  that  told  her  she  must  hope  no  longer ;  and 
as  she  saw  De  Laprade  lying  with  the  deathlike 
pallor  on  his  wasted  face  and  the  eager  famished 
look  in  his  dark  eyes  she  thought  that  he  was 
dying.  She  went  over  noiselessly  to  the  bed  and 
sat  down  beside  him,  laying  her  hand  on  the  coverlet. 
Neither  of  them  spoke,  and  it  was  with  an  heroic 
effort  that  she  restrained  her  tears.  Then  De 
Laprade  took  her  hand  in  his  and  a  look  of  con- 
tentment lighted  up  his  dark  face.  She  wondered 
to  herself  at  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in 
so  short  a  time.  There  was  something  almost  boyish 
in  the  face  that  was  turned  toward  her. 

"  I  am  starting  on  a  long  journey,  my  cousin, " 
he  said,  "and  I  would  see  you  before  I  go.  You 
will  not  think  unkindly  of  me  when " 

She  could  make  no  answer  but  only  bent  over 
his  hand  to  hide  the  tears  that  were  welling  to  her 
eyes,  though  she  strove  to  repress  them. 

"  This  is  a  fit  end  for  me, "  he  went  on,  "  but, 
believe  me,  I  tried  to  keep  my  promise  toward 
your  brother;  he  did  not  understand  and " 

"You  must  say  no  more, "  said  Dorothy;  *  I 
never  doubted  of  your  faith  and  honour.  You  will 
yet  live  to  know  that  I  trust  you.  " 


250  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

u  Too  late,  too  late !  *  he  said,  sorrowfully. 
"Why  should  I  live?  I  have  had  my  chance  and 
wasted  it.  In  all  the  world  there  is  no  one  who  will 
regret  me  but  yourself,  and  you  will  forget  me  when— 
it  is  but  right  you  should.  Victor  De  Laprade — a 
stranger — that  is  all,  and  I  deserve  no  better.  " 

"  I  will  never  forget  you, "  she  said,  touched 
beyond  expression  by  the  pathos  of  his  speech; 
"you  must  not  think  such  thoughts;  you  will  yet 
live  to  smile  at  them." 

""Why  should  I  live  for  whom  there  is  no  room 
and  no  need?  I  have  wasted  my  life.  As  I  lay 
here  I  have  lived  it  all  again,  and  seen  its  folly. 
You  have  helped  me  to  see  what  I  never  saw 
before,  and  I  could  not  go  before  I  told  you. 
Nay,  it  is  best  for  me  to  die.  It  is  not  hard  to 
say  farewell  with  your  hand  in  mine.  I  had  hoped 
some  day  to  tell  you  what  I  am  going  to  speak, 
some  day  when  I  had  shown  myself  not  altogether 
unworthy,  but  I  cannot  wait  for  that  now,  and  must 
say  it  here  if  it  is  ever  to  be  spoken." 

She  knew  what  he  was  about  to  say ;  full  of  pity 
she  did  not  withdraw  her  hand,  but  continued  to 
hold  his  in  her  own.  At  that  moment  she  almost 
felt  she  loved  the  man  who  looked  at  her  with 
such  fervent  longing  in  his  eyes. 

u  I  have  come  to  love  you,  my  cousin,  with  such 
love  as  I  never  felt  or  dreamed  of  before — a  love 
that  makes  me  ashamed  of  my  life,  and  desire  to 
forget  the  past  and  all  its  follies.  That  love  has 
taken  the  terror  away -from  death.  1  do  not  think 


THE  VICOMTE  BROUGHT   BACK  TO   LIFE.      251 

I  should  have  made  you  happy.  I  had  too  much 
to  forget.  And  you  know  you  did  not  love  me, 
Dorothy;  as  indeed  why  should  you." 

"Indeed,  I  think  I  do,"  she  answered  honestly, 
and  lifted  his  hand  to  her  lips  with  the  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "Oh!  Victor,  do  not  wrong  yourself  in 
speaking  thus." 

"  I  am  but  a  poor  fellow,  Dorothy, "  he  said 
slowly,  "  but  if  this  is  true  I  would  not  change  my 
place  with  His  Christian  Majesty.  In  happier  times 
you  will  remember  me  as  one  who  loved  you,  and 
died  content  because  he  loved  you." 

"You  will  not  die,  but  live  to  let  me  help  you 
to  forget  the  past.  There  is  no  sacrifice  I  would 
not  make  to  bring  you  happiness." 

"  I  would  not  let  you  sacrifice  your  life  for  me, 
my  cousin." 

"  Nay,  I  did  not  mean  that.  I  am  but  a  weak  and 
thoughtless  girl  and  cannot  say  all  that  I  would,  but  I 
love  no  other,  and — and  I  think  I  love  you  dearly." 

She  could  not  have  imagined  before  she  came 
into  the  room  that  she  would  have  spoken  these 
words,  but  the  pitiable  sight  of  this  wrecked  and 
wasted  life  filled  her  with  a  great  flood  of  compas- 
sion, and  she  spoke  almost  without  thinking  of 
the  meaning  of  her  words.  Then  she  bent  over 
and  pressed  her  lips  to  his  forehead.  His  pallid 
cheeks  flushed  a  little;  the  act  was  so  spontaneous 
and  so  foreign  to  her  manner,  that  it  carried  to  his 
heart  the  happiness  of  hope  and  love.  For  a  time 
he  did  not  speak. 


252  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  I  do  not  know, "  he  said,  "  whether  this  is  a 
part  of  my  dream;  it  seems  too  much  to  believe 
that  this  great  happiness  should  have  come  to  me 
at  the  end;  but  I  shall  believe  it  true,  and  carry 
your  love  with  me  whither  I  am  going.  It  will 
be  a  light  to  the  way.  The  good  Saunderson  would 
not  let  me  die  when  I  desired,  and  you  make  it 
hard  to  go.  You  see  I  thought  you  loved " 

She  interrupted  him  hastily,  "  I  have  not  thought 
of  love  till  now.  My  foolish  Victor,  you  must 
drive  these  idle  fancies  from  your  head;  if  I  do  not 
love  you,  I  love  no  one." 

"  If  this  were  not  the  shadow  of  a  dream,  the 
happiness  is  too  great! 

" '  Amis,  le  temps  nous  presse ; 

Menageous  les  moments  que  le  transport  nous  laisse ! ' 

"Kiss  me  again,  my  sweet  Dorothy,  for  the 
darkness  is  coming." 

She  thought  that  all  was  over  and  the  end  was 
come.  He  lay  pale  and  exhausted,  with  his  hand 
in  hers  and  his  breathing  so  low  and  faint  that 
she  could  not  catch  the  sound  of  it.  There  was 
the  shadow  of  a  smile  on  the  open  lips;  a  smile 
of  contentment  like  that  a  child  smiles  while  dream- 
ing. She  was  afraid  to  move  or  withdraw  her 
hand,  and  when  Saunderson  came  into  the  room 
she  made  a, gesture  of  warning. 

He  came  over  quietly  beside  her.  "I  think,"  he 
said,  "  ye  have  given  him  a  more  efficacious  remedy 
than  any  in  the  pharmacopoeia.  He  is  sleeping 


THE   VICOMTE  BROUGHT  BACK  TO   LIFE.      253 

finely,  puir  laddie!  Ye  may  leave  him  now  and 
ye'll  see  a  change  for  the  better  when  ye  come 
again.  I  kenned  ye  would  either  kill  or  cure  him, 
though  I  thocht  ye  would  do  him  little  harm  if  ye 
could  help  it." 

"He  is  not  dying?" 

"Indeed,  that  he  is  not,  but  just  making  up  his 
mind  to  live  bravely.  I  would  like  to  bottle  up 
your  specific  and  carry  it  about  in  a  phial;  it's 
what  I  have  been  wanting  this  many  a  day." 

However  it  came  about  the  surgeon's  prediction 
was  verified,  and  a  sudden  change  for  the  better 
took  place  in  the  Vicomte's  condition  that  evening; 
he  had  fallen  into  a  refreshing  slumber  which 
lasted  for  some  hours ;  and  when  he  awakened,  the 
fever  had  entirely  disappeared,  leaving  him  very 
weak  indeed  but  on  the  high  road  toward  conva- 
lescence. With  the  considerateness  that  was  always 
natural  to  him,  he  had  refused  to  allow  Dorothy  to 
remain  in  his  room,  and  had  asked  to  see  Jasper, 
with  whom  he  was  anxious  to  make  his  peace. 
What  passed  between  them  no  one  ever  knew,  for 
De  Laprade  was  silent  on  the  subject,  but  Carew 
was  heard  whistling  gaily  as  he  returned  to  his 
own  room. 

Dorothy  was  for  a  long  time  unable  to  realize 
the  events  of  the  day.  It  filled  her  with  happiness 
to  think  that  De  Laprade  was  likely  to  recover, 
and  that  the  shadow  of  crime  was  to  be  removed ; 
but  when  she  began  to  think  of  the  new  relation 
that  was  springing  up  between  herself  and  her 


254  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

cousin,  an  indefinable  and  restless  feeling  took 
possession  of  her.  She  knew  that  she  had  been 
carried  away  by  pity  and  regret  to  speak  without 
examining  her  own  heart; — she  had  desired  to  bring 
a  momentary  happiness  to  the  forlorn  and  wasted 
life  that  she  thought  was  passing  away  before  her, 
and  she  had  spoken  with  deep  feeling  and  entire 
sincerity.  But  when  she  came  to  think  over  it  now 
that  the  danger  had  passed  away  and  her  mind  had 
grown  calm  and  reasonable,  she  felt  that  she  had 
spoken  rashly  and  without  due  premeditation.  She 
feared  that  she  had  mistaken  compassion  for  love. 
But  if  she  did  not  love  him  now  with  a  strong  and 
devoted  affection,  it  might  grow  and  all  might  yet 
be  well.  She  could  not  now  tell  him  that  she  only 
pitied  him.  Then  her  thoughts  went  further  afield, 
and  with  a  start  she  wakened  up  wondering  what 
Gervase  Orme  would  say  when  he  heard  that  she 
had  plighted  her  troth  to  his  friend.  The  idea 
filled  her  with  pain;  she  shrank  from  it  with  a 
feeling  akin  to  dismay.  While  Orme  was  nothing 
more  to  her  than  a  friend,  her  thoughts  had  involun- 
tarily dwelt  much  on  him,  and  she  had  come  to 
look  to  his  strong  and  silent  nature  for  help  and 
consolation,  sure  of  perfect  sympathy  and  under- 
standing. She  knew,  though  she  now  strove  to 
forget  it,  that  he  loved  her.  Had  she  been  free  to 
choose  her  own  way,  and  had  duty  so  plain  and  so 
self-evident  not  lain  in  her  path — but  no,  she  did 
not  love  him  and  must  not  allow  her  mind  to  dwell 
on  these  idle  imaginings.  There  was  only  one 


'JASPER  BUCKLING   HIS   SWORD   ABOUT  HIM 


THE  VICOMTE  BROUGHT  BACK  TO  LIFE.      255 

thing  for  her  to  do, — to  be  true  to  the  words 
she  had  spoken  and  bring  her  wayward  heart 
to  respond  to  the  promise  she  had  made.  There 
was  no  one  to  whom  she  could  go  for  advice  or 
help ;  she  must  rely  upon  herself  alone,  and  happen 
what  might,  there  was  at  least  one  Carew  who 
would  be  found  faithful  to  her  word  and  jealous  of 
her  honour.  The  sin  and  wrongdoing  of  her  house 
might  be  visited  upon  her,  but  she  would  bear  it 
cheerfully. 

She  had  visited  Lady  Hester  at  midnight  and 
was  about  to  retire  to  her  own  room,  when  she 
heard  her  brother's  door  open  and  someone  pass- 
ing down  the  corridor.  "Without  waiting  to  think, 
she  came  down  the  stairs  hurriedly,  and  found  Jasper 
in  the  hall  with  his  cloak  and  hat  on,  buckling  his 
sword  about  him.  He  was  evidently  very  angry 
at  seeing  her. 

"  These  are  no  hours  for  a  woman, "  he  said ;  "  you 
should  have  been  abed  hours  ago." 

"  They  are  not  hours  for  some  men  either, "  she 
said,  looking  at  him  earnestly.  She  knew  from  the 
look  that  he  cast  on  her  that  he  was  certain  she 
had  learnt  his  guilty  secret.  She  did  not  flinch 
but  stood  up  before  him,  with  a  firm  and  steadfast 
look.  He  drew  on  his  gloves  slowly  without  rais- 
ing his  eyes  to  meet  hers.  Though  there  was 
neither  sympathy  nor  love  between  them,  and  though 
she  had  striven  devotedly  to  win  his  confidence 
without  success,  she  longed  to  save  him  from  this 
dishonour,  and  to  hold  him  back  from  ruin,  for  that 


256  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

ruin  and  dishonour  were  impending  she  did  not 
doubt. 

"  These  are  not  hours  for  some  men  either.  For 
your  own  sake  and  for  mine,  you  must  not  leave 
the  house  to-night." 

*  And  pray,  madam,  why  not  ?  It  is  not  enough 
that  I  should  be  mewed  up  in  this  damned  town 
with  a  couple  of  women  and  a  mad  Frenchman 
for  my  companions,  but  that  I  must  have  my  actions 
spied  upon  and  my  coming  and  going  brought  in 
question.  I  have  borne  with  you  in  patience,  my 
good  sister,  but  I  will  not  let  you  spy  upon  me 
longer.  There  must  be  an  end  on  't.n 

"  You  can  speak  no  words  that  will  make  me 
fear  you,"  she  said  quietly.  "I  would  have  been 
your  loyal  and  loving  sister,  but  you  know  what  I 
know,  and  if  I  can  prevent  it  you  shall  not  play 
the  traitor  longer.  It  is  true  that  I  have  watched 
you,  watched  you  day  and  night ;  and  was  there  not 
need?  Shall  it  be  said  that  a  Carew,  for  I  know 
not  what  base  reward,  sold  his  honour  and  flung 
away  his  good  name?  Can  Hamilton  or  Tyr- 
connell  or  James  himself  save  you  from  this  disgrace?" 

"  These  are  mad  words, "  he  said  doggedly ;  a  I 
know  not  what  you  mean." 

"  I  am  only  a  woman  with  a  woman's  weakness, 
and  I  cannot  turn  you  from  your  purpose.  But 
before  I  had  carried  such  a  paper  as  I  have  seen 
you  carry,  I  would  have  died  a  thousand  times. 
Jasper,"  she  continued  pleadingly,  laying  her  hand 
on  his  arm,  "It  is  not  yet  too  late." 


THE   VICOMTE  BROUGHT  BACK  TO   LIFE.        257 

"  I  was  right  after  all,  and  it  was  you  who  set 
yon  slow-witted  coxcomb  to  lecture  me  with  his 
mysterious  threats.  Now  listen  to  me,  Miss  Carew; 
you  have  shown  a  more  than  sisterly  interest  in 
my  affairs;  and  you  may  as  well  know  it  all.  I 
have  followed  my  own  course,  and  laid  my  plans 
that  I  will  suffer  no  woman  to  wreck  with  her 
whims  and  fancies.  These  beggarly  citizens  and 
these  foolish  country  gentlemen  are  nothing  to  me. 
I  stand  by  my  lawful  king,  and  on  that  side  is  my 
service  and  my  interest,  I  have  taken  no  great 
pains  to  conceal  my  thoughts,  and  perhaps  to- 
morrow—  '  here  he  checked  himself. 

"Then  go  over  to  your  friends." 

u  It  does  not  suit  my  purpose.  Now  I  will  give 
you  a  word  of  advice  before  I  go.  Make  no  more 
confidences  for  the  future — they  are  dangerous  for 
those  who  speak  and  for  those  who  listen  to  them, 
and  I  will  not  have  my  acts  questioned  by  you 
or  others.  For  the  paper  you  speak  of,  you  may 
keep  it  now  and  it  may  prove  useful  hereafter,  but 
for  your  friend  I  shall  call  him  to  a  reckoning  if 
I  live.  I  think  that  hereafter  you  will  keep  my 
secret  more  closely,  for  it  does  not  redound  to  the 
credit  of  the  family  that  you  should  take  the  world 
into  your  confidence." 

He  opened  the  door  and  stood  looking  at  her 
threateningly  ;  then  he  went  out,  drawing  it  noiselessly 
after  him. 

Though  he  had  borne  himself  with  a  high  hand, 
she  could  see  that  he  had  felt  her  words  keenly, 

17 


258  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

and  that  he  was  already  fearful  for  his  own  safety. 
What  course  she  should  take  she  did  not  know, 
for  she  shrank  from  making  his  treachery  public 
and  from  bringing"  punishment  by  any  act  of  her 
own  on  the  offender.  It  was  clear  that  no  entreaty 
nor  expostulation  of  hers  would  have  any  weight 
with  him ;  she  knew  his  headlong  and  obstinate 
nature  too  well  to  hope  that  it  might. 

She  remained  standing  for  a  long  time  lost  in 
thought,  and  then  she  crept  to  her  own  room,  won- 
dering whether,  after  all,  Gervase  Orme  might  not 
keep  his  word.  They  had  not  renewed  their  con- 
versation since  the  day  that  she  had  placed  the 
pass  in  his  hands,  but  she  felt  certain  that  he  had 
not  relaxed  in  his  vigilance.  And  then  it  struck 
her  suddenly  that  by  this  act  she  might  have  imperilled 
his  safety,  for  her  brother  had  already  threatened 
him,  and  she  knew  that  in  this,  at  least,  he  would 
keep  his  word,  if  he  had  the  power  or  the  opportunity 
to  injure  him.  She  regretted  now  that  she  had  not 
taken  the  initiative  earlier  herself,  but  on  this  she 
was  determined,  that  she  and  her  brother  should 
not  remain  under  the  same  roof,  even  if  she  was 
compelled  publicly  to  denounce  his  crime.  But  she 
was  saved  the  pain,  for  she  never  saw  her  brother 
again. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

OF  A  DEED   OF  TREACHERY. 

GERVASE  had  not  forgotten  the  promise  he  had 
made  to  Dorothy,  but  in  the  intervals  of  his  duty 
had  watched  the  house  narrowly,  and  so  far  as  he 
was  able  to  discover,  Jasper  had  not  attempted  to 
repeat  his  visits  to  the  enemy.  He  had  begun  to 
think  that  his  thinly-veiled  threat  had  had  a  salu- 
tary effect,  and  that  Jasper  knowing  himself  to  have 
been  discovered,  would  not  again  rashly  put  his 
safety  in  peril.  The  task  was  not  one  for  which 
he  had  any  great  relish,  but  he  had  determined, 
however  irksome  and  unpleasant  it  might  prove, 
that  he  would  save  Dorothy  from  a  public  exposure 
and  from  the  pain  that  such  exposure  must 
necessarily  inflict  upon  her.  Had  it  not  been 
for  her  he  would  have  taken  a  summary  method 
with  the  traitor,  but  his  long  vigils  were  rendered 
light  by  the  thought  that  they  were  undertaken  for 
her  sake.  While  he  stood  in  the  dark  street  in 
the  shadow  of  the  opposite  doorway,  his  heart  was 
stirred  when  he  caught  sight  of  her  crossing  the 
window  of  her  chamber,  and  so  long  as  her  light 
burned  there  he  felt  that  he  was  not  altogether 
alone.  For  matter-of-fact  as  he  was,  his  love 


260  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

had  waked  whatever  of  the  pathetic  and  the  heroic 
there  was  in  his  nature;  and  he  felt  that  this 
service  was  a  link  that  bound  them  more  closely 
together.  Macpherson  who  knew  something  of  his 
solitary  watching,  had  laughed  in  his  own  fashion, 
and  told  him  that  no  woman  could  be  won  in  such 
a  fashion,  for  while  one  was  sitting  sad  outside 
another  was  fiddling  in  the  chamber.  But  Gervase 
had  kept  his  post,  though  nothing  came  of  it  and 
though  he  had  not  spoken  to  Dorothy  for  days. 

To-night  he  had  been  ordered  with  his  company 
to  the  lines.  The  enemy  who  had  been  waiting  in 
sullen  patience  for  the  famine-stricken  garrison  to 
surrender,  had  made  some  show  of  movement,  and 
it  was  believed  they  meditated  another  night  attack. 
The  guards  had  therefore  been  doubled,  and  precau- 
tions were  taken  to  prevent  a  surprise.  Gervase 
went  the  more  willingly  since  he  believed  his  services 
in  the  city  were  no  longer  needed,  as  a  fortnight 
had  elapsed  and  Jasper  had  made  no  sign  of  renewing 
his  intrigue;  and  it  was  a  relief  once  more  to  find 
an  outlet  for  his  feelings  in  vigorous  action.  He 
felt  that  he  had  lost  his  youth  and  that  he  was 
growing  old  in  witnessing  the  sights  he  saw  every 
day— the  gaunt  hollow-eyed  wretches  who  came 
tottering  from  their  ruined  houses  in  search  of  food ; 
the  men  stricken  down  with  hunger  where  they 
stood  on  duty  at  the  walls;  women  who  had  lost 
their  children;  children  motherless  and  fatherless, 
and  left  without  a  protector;  the  want,  the  sorrow, 
and  the  death  that  increased  every  day.  If  they 


OF  A    DEED    OF  TREACHERY.  261 

might  but  have  fought  out  the  fight  upon  the  open 
field,  and  in  one  brave  struggle  have  decided  their 
fate,  how  willingly  he  would  have  taken  his  part! 
But  half  the  fighting  men  had  fallen  since  they 
closed  the  gates,  and  of  the  other  half  many  of  them 
could  hardly  shoulder  their  muskets  and  drag  them- 
selves to  the  walls. 

It  was  a  relief  to  pass  out  of  the  gates,  and  the 
sight  and  sound  of  so  much  misery,  into  the  quiet 
night  with  the  cool  air  blowing  about  him  and  the 
new  moon  lifting  itself  slowly  through  the  summer 
haze.  In  the  distance  he  could  see  the  gleam  of 
the  watch-fires  of  the  enemy,  but  there  was  a  great 
and  unbroken  silence  round  them,  as  the  company 
made  its  way  along  the  path  that  had  been  beaten 
into  white  dust  with  frequent  marching.  Macpherson 
was  in  command  of  the  outpost  that  night,  and 
Gervase  found  him  seated  by  himself  in  the  bastion 
on  the  carriage  of  a  gun  that  had  been  brought 
up  from  the  city.  He  was  quietly  communing  with 
himself  while  he  drew  consolation  from  his  favourite 
pipe.  Of  late  days  the  old  soldier  had  been  fore- 
most in  attack  and  counsel.  Hard  work  and  scanty 
fare  had  had  no  effect  upon  him,  but  his  spirits 
seemed  to  have  risen  the  higher  as  their  privations 
and  hardships  increased.  In  all  expeditions  of  danger 
he  was  among  the  foremost  to  volunteer,  and  on 
more  than  one  occasion  his  coolness  and  resource 
had  been  of  immense  service  to  the  besieged. 
Walker's  antipathy  he  had  long  since  overcome, 
for  though  they  had  serious  differences  on  points 


262  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

of  doctrine,  they  had  each  come  to  recognize  the 
excellent  qualities  of  the  other. 

When  Gervase  had  completed  the  arrangement 
of  his  company,  he  joined  the  old  soldier  in  the 
bastion.  He  made  the  usual  inquiries  as  to  the 
movement  in  front,  but  Macpherson,  apparently  in 
a  fit  of  abstraction,  had  answered  his  questions  in 
monosyllables.  There  was  in  the  face  of  the  latter 
the  hardness  and  solemnity  that  Gervase  had  seen 
early  in  their  acquaintance,  but  which  had  disap- 
peared of  recent  days.  Then  he  rose  up  and  laid 
his  hand  on  the  young  fellow's  shoulder. 

"  Let  us  walk  down  the  rampart, "  he  said,  as  if 
awaking  from  his  reverie,  "  my  legs  have  grown 
stiff,  and  there  is  something  that  I  would  say  to  you. 
Our  lads  are  veterans  in  the  service  now  and 
stand  up  unwinking  without  the  need  of  a  ramrod. " 

With  his  hand  resting  on  Gervase's  shoulder, 
they  walked  along  the  trench  down  the  hill.  There 
was  no  need  for  speech  between  them  now,  for 
Gervase  had  come  to  understand  his  friend's  varying 
moods,  and  had  long  since  ceased  to  resent  the  fits 
of  silence  into  which  the  other  was  accustomed  to 
fall.  "Here  is  another  day  gone,"  he  said,  "and 
no  move  from  the  Tangier  Butcher.  Whether  he  come 
by  Inch  or  by  the  river,  he  will  come  too  late,  if 
he  come  at  all.  I  have  been  thinking  that  I  might 
hurry  him." 

"You  are  not  serious? 

"  Faith !  the  man  who  drops  into  the  river,  and 
floats  himself  clear  of  the  lines  yonder  till  he  reaches 


OF  A  DEED  OF  TREACHEF.Y.  263 

the  ships  by  the  good  guidance  of  God,  would 
need  to  have  a  serious  mind.  I  have  been  thinking 
it  all  over,  as  I  sat  there  to-night,  and  of  the  poor 
souls  in  their  tribulation  yonder.  If  I  was  a  year 
or  two  younger  I  would  try  it  blithely,  and  I  think 
Kirke  would  listen  to  his  old  comrade.  There  were 
certain  passages  between  us  once — however,  as  I 
say,  this  might  be  done  by  one  who  took  his  life 
in  his  hand,  and  I  think  I  am  the  man.  Do  you 
believe  in  omens,  lad?" 

"  I  know  not. "  Gervase  answered ;  a  I  think  they 
are  but  an  idle  superstition." 

"Then  you  may  laugh  at  me  if  you  will,  but  as 
surely  as  my  name  is  Ninian  I  have  been  called 
this  night  to  that  work,  and  perhaps  to  more  also." 

"I  had  thought,"  said  Gervase,  "you  had  forgot 
these  idle  dreams  and  warnings." 

"Though  I  am  a  man  of  prayer,"  he  went  on, 
disregarding  the  interruption,  "  I  am  not  gifted  with 
the  vision,  but  twice  before  I  have  heard  the  same 
voice,  and  twice  my  life  was  put  in  grievous  jeopardy. 
When  I  heard  it  before,  it  spoke  as  if  in  anger, 
but  to-night  it  was  sweet  and  soft  like  his  voice 
that  was  my  friend.  You  see  I  was  sitting  there 
on  the  bastion  figuring  out  how  I  might  reach  the 
ships,  and  reproaching  myself  for  my  backwardness 
in  desiring  to  make  the  venture,  when  I  heard  a 
voice  as  if  a  great  way  off  coming  from  up  the 
river  yonder.  I  listened  attentively  but  there  was 
a  deep  silence,  and  I  began  to  think  that  it 
was  a  mere  trick  of  fancy.  Then  it  came  again, 


2  64  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

sounding  nearer,  till  I  heard  the  words  of  his 
voice. " 

"  Whose  voice?"  said  Gervase,  wonderingly. 

Macpherson  turned  towards  him  with  a  white 
face.  "The  voice  of  my  old  friend — him  that  I 
told  you  of.  But,  thank  God,  I  know  his  spirit  is 
at  peace  with  mine,  and  I  can  die  content.  I  could 
see  him  before  me  with  my  mortal  eyes,  as  I  heard 
that  familiar  voice  that  has  not  sounded  in  mine 
ears  for  twenty  years.  He  has  called  me  and  I 
am  going  yonder." 

There  was  no  trace  of  excitement  in  his  manner 
or  in  his  speech,  but  he  spoke  with  the  calm  deliber- 
ateness  of  a  man  who  has  fully  made  up  his  mind 
and  cannot  be  shaken  in  his  opinion.  Gervase  knew 
that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  to  reason  with  him; 
and  indeed,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  he  himself 
was  not  a  little  impressed  by  the  tale  he  had  heard. 
The  supernatural  played  a  large  part  in  the  lives 
of  the  people  among  whom  he  lived,  and  it  was 
not  curious  that  his  own  mind  should  have  been 
touched  by  the  prevailing  spirit.  But  to  Macpherson 
it  was  a  fact  that  required  no  explanation  and  hardly 
seemed  to  call  for  wonder. 

"And  were  you  not  afraid  to  hear  that  disembodied 
voice?"  Gervase  asked,  "if  it  be  that  it  was  not 
more  than  your  fancy?" 

"Wherefore  should  I  be  afraid?  was  it  not  the 
voice  of  my  friend  who  spoke  to  me  no  longer  in 
anger?  I  know  that  my  sin  is  forgiven.  Some 
day,  my  lad,"  he  continued,  with  the  kindly  and 


OF  A  DEED   OF   TREACHERY.  265 

almost  caressing  tone  he  had  adopted  towards  Ger- 
vase,  "  some  day  you  will  understand  what  I  mean, 
but  not  yet.  Now  forget  what  I  have  spoken  and 
help  me  with  your  young  and  nimble  wits." 

"  It  is  madness  for  you  to  dream  of  it, "  Gervase 
answered.  "No  man  could  reach  the  ships  by  the 
water  alone,  and  to  land  would  be  certain  death." 

"When  we  were  campaigning  on  the  Danube  I 
swam  further  than  that  and  was  none  the  worse 
for  it,  while  the  Janissaries  were  potting  at  us  from 
their  flat-bottomed  boat  a  good  part  of  the  way. 
But  this  is  an  old  story  now." 

"Ay!  and  you  were  a  young  man  then.  If  any 
should  undertake  this  task,  why  should  not  I?  I 
am  sick  and  weary  to  death  of  what  I  have  seen 
yonder,  and  I  had  rather  die  once  and  for  all  than 
die  by  inches.  Were  there  but  a  chance " 

"My  lad,  you  must  not  think  of  it.  You  are 
young  and  there  is  still  need  for  you  in  the  world. 
The  bonnie  wench  yonder  could  ill  spare  you;  but 
there'll  be  none,  but  mayhap  yourself,  to  wait  for 
the  home-coming  of  Ninian  Macpherson;  and  the 
folk  yonder  are  worth  venturing  a  man's  life  for. 
I  have  been  through  many  a  siege,  but  I  think 
since  the  beginning  of  time  there  hath  been  none 
like  this." 

"Truly  there  is  a  fat  Cathedral  yard,"  said 
Gervase  bitterly,  "  and  God  knows  when  it  will  end. 
There  are  two  more  of  Simon's  sturdy  lads  dead 
yesterday,  and  I  hardly  think  the  little  girl  I  told  you 
of  will  hold  out  till  the  morning." 


266  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"  Poor  soul,  poor  soul !  "  he  continued,  "  and  to 
think  that  it  should  all  be  happening  under  that — " 
and  he  lifted  up  his  hand.  The  night  was  clear  and 
cloudless.  The  river  lay  before  them  reflecting 
the  starlight  in  its  calm  unbroken  waters,  and  the 
moon  lifted  its  slender  crescent  through  a  mellow 
haze.  They  were  about  to  retrace  their  steps  along 
the  lines  when  Macpherson,  whose  sight  was  mar- 
vellously keen,  caught  sight  of  a  figure  moving 
rapidly  under  the  shelter  of  a  sunken  fence.  He 
had  seen  it  for  a  moment  as  it  showed  clear  against 
the  river,  as  it  made  its  way  swiftly  in  the  shadow. 
He  caught  Gervase  by  the  arm,  pulling  him  under 
cover  of  the  embankment. 

"There  is  foul  play  here,"  he  whispered.  "Yon 
binkie  travels  too  fast  to  have  an  honest  errand. 
He  will  come  this  way,  if  he  intend,  as  I  verily 
think  he  does,  to  pass  through  to  the  camp  yonder. " 

The  man  made  his  way  toward  them  rapidly, 
without  stopping  for  a  moment.  It  was  clear  that 
he  intended  to  pass  the  angle  were  they  stood,  and 
they  would  not  have  to  stir  to  intercept  him  as  he 
passed. 

"  There  may  be  need  of  this, "  said  Macpherson, 
drawing  his  sword,  "  but  I  think  not;  the  traitor 
is  nearly  always  a  coward." 

They  could  now  hear  the  man  breathing  hard 
as  he  ran;  he  was  preparing  to  leap  into  the 
trench,  when  Macpherson  presented  himself  before 
him,  with  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand. 

"Stand,  and  give  me  the  word." 


OF  A   DEED    OF  TREACHERY.  267 

The  man  stopped  short  as  if  astonished  at  the 
unexpected  rencontre,  and  then  thrust  his  hand  into 
his  breast.  But  Macpherson  divined  his  purpose. 
"If  you  move  that  hand  I  will  run  you  through 
the  body,"  and  he  held  the  point  of  the  sword 
perilously  near  the  man's  throat. 

Gervase  had  not  moved  forward  but  was  still 
standing  in  the  shadow.  Something  warned  him 
that  the  traitor  whom  he  had  been  watching  so 
long  had  made  his  attempt  to-night,  and  was 
discovered  at  last. 

"Now,  sir,  what  is  your  errand  here  to-night?  if 
you  do  not  answer  me  I  shall  call  the  guard." 

"  You  need  not  call  the  guard,  Captain  Macpher- 
son. I  am  here  on  no  sinister  business,  but  have 
come  to  seek  for  Mr.  Gervase  Orme,  who,  I  am 
told,  is  in  the  lines  to-night." 

He  lifted  off  his  hat  and  stood  bareheaded  in  the 
midnight.  As  he  listened,  Gervase  knew  that  it 
was  a  lie,  but  did  not  move  from  his  place  of 
concealment. 

"  Good  God, "  cried  Macpherson,  "  'tis  the  brave 
wench's  brother.  I'm  thinking,  Mr.  Carew,  it  was 
a  strange  way  you  took  to  find  the  gentleman  you 
speak  of.  It  looked  like  as  if  you  thought  to  find 
him  yonder." 

"  I  am  not  familiar  with  your  outworks,  sir, " 
answered  Jasper,  who  had  recovered  his  composure, 
and  spoke  with  studied  coolness,  "  and  I  thought  you 
had  another  line  of  defence  along  the  hill." 

"There   is  no  accounting  for  a  man's  thoughts," 


268  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

said  Macpherson,  "  but  the  message  must  have 
been  urgent  that  needed  so  much  haste.  In  the 
future  I  would  advise  you  to  move  more  circum- 
spectly when  musket  balls  are  plenty.  Now,  per- 
haps, as  the  gentleman  is  my  friend,  you  will  even 
give  me  your  news  and  I  will  contrive  that  it 
reaches  him." 

"  It  can  be  delivered  to  none  but  himself.  If 
you  will  tell  me  where  I  may  find  him,  I  have  no 
doubt  I  can  make  my  way  thither  myself." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  could,  but  you  see  I  can- 
not let  you  out  of  my  sight.  We  must  even  see 
the  gentleman  together." 

"You  do   not  mean  that  you  doubt  my  word?" 

"Your  word,  sir,  cannot  interfere  with  my  plain 
duty.  I  am  one  of  those  who  strive  to  give  no 
tongue  to  their  loose  thoughts.  I  would  think  well 
of  you  for  your  sister's  sake;  and  I  think  we  will 
hear,  after  all,  what  Mr.  Orme  has  to  say  about 
the  matter." 

"I  have  no  doubt,"  said  Carew,  changing  his 
ground  as  he  saw  that  Macpherson  was  inflexible, 
"that  I  have  acted  heedlessly  in  venturing  hither, 
and  it  may  be  best  for  me  to  return  to  the  city. 
If  you  should  consider  it  well,  I  am  ready  to  give 
any  explanation  that  may  be  necessary  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

Macpherson  smiled  grimly.  UI  have  no  doubt 
you  would,  but  it  is  a  pity  that  you  should  have 
come  so  far  without  fulfilling  your  errand,  and  I 
think  Mr.  Orme  hath  been  waiting  with  some 


OF    A  DEED   OF   TREACHERY.  269 

impatience  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say  to  him." 

Gervase  stepped  quickly  forward. 

"  You  can  go  no  further  with  this  deception,  Mr. 
Carew,"  he  said,  "I  gave  you  a  friendly  warning 
before  which  you  have  not  followed,  and  you  must 
suffer  the  consequences." 

Carew  stepped  back  with  a  look  of  hate  on  his  face. 
"  The  curse  of  heaven  light  on  you  for  an  intermed- 
dling rogue !  "  he  cried.  " Do  what  you  will,  I  care  not." 

"  You  knew, "  Gervase  continued,  "  that  I  had  learned 
your  secret,  and  I  think  though  I  may  be  deceived, 
you  knew  how  I  had  learned  it.  I  was  anxious  to 
spare  you  the  humiliation  of  making  a  confession 
of  your  treachery,  and  for  the  sake  of  others  would 
have  averted  the  punishment.  But  you  have  not 
taken  my  counsel  to  heart,  and  for  myself  I  bitterly 
regret  it." 

"  I  want  neither  your  counsel  nor  your  regret. 
Tell  me  what  you  mean  to  do  and  let  us  have  an 
end  of  it.  I  cannot  see  why  I  should  not  leave  the 
city  if  I  would." 

Macpherson  had  listened  to  this  brief  conversation 
in  surprise.  He  had  not  imagined  that  Gervase  had 
had  any  suspicion  of  Jasper's  treachery,  and  for 
a  moment  it  pained  him  to  think  that  he  had  with- 
held his  confidence.  Then  he  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"Does  his  sister  know  of  this?" 

"There  is  no  need  for  concealment,"  Gervase 
answered ;  "  it  was  from  her  that  I  first  learned  it, 
and  I  have  been  watching  for  a  fortnight  that  this 
did  not  happen.  It  will  break  her  heart." 


2/0  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  That  need  not  be :  we  will  even  take  the  law 
into  our  own  hands,  come  of  it  what  will.  Now, 
sir,  *  he  said,  turning  round  towards  Jasper,  "  there 
is  no  need  for  further  deception,  for  it  cannot  profit 
you  a  whit.  I  never  doubted  that  you  were  a 
traitor  from  the  moment  that  I  caught  sight  of  you 
by  the  dyke  yonder.  You  know  what  is  the  punish- 
ment of  a  traitor?  Hanging  is  not  a  very  fit  end  for 
any  man,  and  hanged  you  will  be  if  we  carry  you  back 
to  the  city.  I  cannot  tell  what  is  your  intent  in  stoop- 
ing to  this  dishonour,  but  I  think  in  letting  you  pass 
I  can  do  but  little  harm.  They  know  how  it  stands 
with  us>  and  you  can  bring  them  but  little  fresh 
news.  Did  I  think  of  you  alone,  as  God  is  my 
witness,  I  should  string  you  up  with  my  own  hand 
without  compunction,  but  for  the  sake  of  them  that 
loved  you,  unworthy  as  you  are,  the  way  is  open 
for  you.  You  may  go.  You  may  tell  them  from 
Ninian  Macpherson  that  never  a  man  of  them  will 
put  his  foot  inside  the  walls,  and  you  have  seen  the 
last  of  the  city  yourself." 

For  a  moment  Jasper  could  not  realize  the  good 
news,  and  appeared  overcome  by  surprise.  "  I  may 
be  able  to  return  your  favour  some  day,  sir,"  he 
said,  "however  poor  a  figure  I  may  cut  now." 

"I  would  take  no  favour  from  your  hands,"  an- 
swered Macpherson;  "  now  go  before  my  mind  changes, 
for  I  doubt  whether  I  do  right  in  letting  you  pass 
thus  easily." 

Without  a  word  Carew  crossed  the  trench  and 
clambered  up  the  rampart.  On  the  top  he  turned 


OF  A  DEED   OF  TREACHERY.  271 

short,  "  I  have  to  thank  you  for  your  kindness, "  he 
said,  "  and  for  the  courteous  speech  you  have  made. 
You,  sir,  as  I  have  said  I  will  do  my  best  to 
repay,  but  for  you,  Mr.  Orme,  you  may  take  my 
favour  now." 

Quick  as  thought  Gervase  saw  the  barrel  of  a  pistol 
flashing  in  the  moonlight,  presented  straight  at  his 
breast.  Macpherson  saw  it  too,  and  sprang  forward 
as  if  to  leap  the  trench,  when  there  came  a  blinding 
flash  and  a  loud  cry  as  Macpherson  fell  forward  on 
his  face. 

Gervase  followed  his  impulse,  which  was  to  secure 
the  miscreant  who  had  done  this  base  and  cowardly 
act,  but  when  he  had  reached  the  summit  of  the 
rampart,  he  was  rapidly  disappearing  in  the  darkness 
and  it  was  impossible  to  overtake  him.  So  with  a 
bitter  feeling  in  his  heart  and  something  that  sounded 
like  an  imprecation  on  his  lips,  he  turned  back  to 
his  wounded  friend. 

The  sound  of  the  shot  had  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  men  nearest  to  them  in  the  trenches;  they 
came  hurrying  up  believing  that  the  attack  had 
begun,  but  when  they  saw  Macpherson  lying  on  the 
ground  and  Gervase  kneeling  by  his  side,  their 
alarm  was  changed  to  suspicion  and  surprise.  There 
was  an  unbroken  silence  in  front  under  the  quiet 
summer  sky;  not  a  blade  of  grass  was  stirring  on 
the  hillside.  It  was  clear  to  them  that  this  blow 
had  not  come  from  the  enemy,  and  full  of  surprise 
and  wonder,  they  watched  Gervase  as  he  bent  over  the 
fallen  man  and  opened  his  vest  to  find  the  wound. 


272  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

Macpherson  was  still  conscious;  the  blood  that 
was  pouring  from  a  wound  in  his  breast  had  dyed 
his  shirt  deep  red,  and  they  noticed  that  he  had 
not  let  go  his  hold  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword.  But 
there  was  that  look  in  his  face  that  every  man  in 
that  company  had  seen  too  frequently  for  months 
to  mistake — that  look  in  the  presence  of  which 
there  is  no  hope,  and  which  speaks  inevitably  of  a 
speedy  dissolution.  It  was  clear  to  them  all  that 
the  last  sands  of  his  life  had  nearly  run  out. 

A  sergeant  of  his  regiment  running  up  the  lines 
had  brought  do\vn  a  blazing  brand  of  fir,  by  the 
light  of  which  Gervase  stanched  the  flowing  blood 
as  well  as  he  was  able.  He  felt  his  hand  shaking 
as  he  bound  up  the  wound,  nor  could  he  trust 
himself  to  make  any  answer  to  the  eager  questions 
that  were  poured  upon  him.  It  required  no  skill 
to  tell  that  the  wound  was  mortal;  it  was  only  a 
question  of  hours,  perhaps  of  minutes;  and  the 
thought  that  pressed  most  strongly  upon  him  was 
that  it  was  to  save  his  life  that  Macpherson  had 
lost  his  own.  Rugged  and  staunch  and  true,  a 
loyal  friend,  a  valiant  soldier,  he  had  hardly  recog- 
nized his  worth  or  the  affection  he  had  begun  to 
bear  toward  him,  until  the  time  had  come  for  them 
to  part. 

From  the  moment  that  he  fell  Macpherson  had 
not  spoken;  he  lay  motionless  with  his  face  turned 
up  and  the  light  of  the  blazing  torch  falling  on  it. 
Only  once  he  pressed  the  hand  of  Gervase  with 
a  gentle  pressure;  that  was  all  the  sign  he  gave  of 


OF  A  DEED   OF  TREACHERY.  273 

consciousness.  A  surgeon  had  been  sent  for  but 
there  seemed  to  be  no  probability  of  his  arriving 
in  time,  and  they  hastily  began  to  construct  a  hurdle 
on  which  to  carry  the  old  soldier  home.  Though 
he  had  been  quick  to  punish  any  breach  of  disci- 
pline, he  had  always  been  forward  with  his  praise, 
and  they  had  long  since  learnt  that  he  would  not 
ask  them  to  go  where  he  was  not  ready  to  lead 
them.  They  had  come  to  impose  implicit  confidence 
in  his  wisdom  and  courage,  while  they  had  seen  in 
a  thousand  instances  that  a  warm  and  kindly  heart 
lay  under  his  rugged  manner  and  surly  speech. 
They  had  been  wont  to  say  that  Roaring  Meg  and 
the  old  Captain  were  children  of  the  same  mother; 
but  there  was  many  a  moist  eye  in  the  trenches 
that  night  when  they  learned  that  the  old  fire-eater 
had  come  to  his  end. 

While  they  were  getting  ready  the  hurdle  on 
which  to  carry  him  to  the  city,  Gervase  had  not 
moved  but  still  knelt  holding  his  head  on  his  knees. 
The  blow  was  so  sudden  and  so  unexpected  that 
he  had  not  had  time  to  realize  it  Notwithstanding 
the  evidence  of  his  senses,  he  could  not  believe  that 
he  was  in  the  presence  of  death.  He  did  not  once 
think  of  his  own  miraculous  escape  nor  of  how  this 
might  affect  the  woman  he  loved,  but  stunned  and 
bewildered,  he  endeavoured  to  make  clear  to  his 
own  mind  that  his  friend  was  dying. 

Macpherson's  lips  moved  and  Gervase  bent  down 
to  catch  the  words,  but  for  a  time  they  were  broken 
and  inaudible.  Then  with  an  effort  he  lifted  his 

18 


274  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

hand  and  motioned  to  the  men  who  were  gathered 
round,  to  withdraw.  He  had  still  much  difficulty  in 
speaking  but  Gervase  was  able  to  catch  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words  now. 

"  I'm  going  home,  lad, "  he  said,  "  going  home. 
I  was  called,  and — and — you  will  promise  me." 

Gervase  did  not  speak  but  only  pressed  his 
hand. 

"  She  must  never  know  who  has  done  this — 
never  till  the  Judgment.  She  is  proud,  and  it  would 
break  her  heart.  Only  you  and  I — we  know,  and 
we  will  keep  the  secret.  You  will  promise;  you 
are  a  good  lad,  and  my  old  heart  was. turned 
toward  you." 

Gervase  was  not  ashamed  of  the  tears  that  streamed 
down  his  face.  He  brushed  them  away  with  the 
back  of  his  hand,  and  tried  to  speak  as  well  as  his 
feelings  would  permit  him. 

"  I  am  glad  you  promised.  Don't  grieve  for  me ; 
it  was  better  that  I  should  go  than  you.  The 
campaign  is  over  and  I  am  going  home." 

They  placed  him  on  the  stretcher  and  carried 
him  back  to  the  city. 

Already  as  they  passed  through  Bishops-Gate,  the 
crimson  light  of  the  dawn  had  filled  the  sky,  and 
the  stars  had  failed,  and  the  shadows  had  passed 
away  in  the  rosy  glow  of  the  pleasant  summer 
morning. 

As  the  bearers  of  the  hurdle  halted  with  their 
burden  on  the  stone  steps  of  the  house  in  which 
Macpherson  lodged,  he  called  out  to  them  to  stop. 


OF  A   DEED   OF  TREACHERY.  275 

"Let  me  look  at  it  once  more  before  I  go.  I'll 
never  see  it  again." 

And  so  they  stood  there  in  silence  fronting  the 
sunrise;  he  raised  his  head  for  a  minute  and  then 
motioned  to  them  to  carry  him  in.  They  laid  him 
in  his  own  bed,  and  left  Gervase  and  the  surgeon  to 
examine  his  wound. 

But  it  was  evident  that  nothing  could  be  done 
for  him.  He  was  already  past  all  mortal  aid,  and 
as  he  suffered  from  no  pain  they  had  only  to  wait 
for  the  end  that  would  not  be  long  in  coming. 

"  He'll  no'  need  my  aid,  Mr.  Orme, "  said  Saun- 
derson,  "  for  there's  none  of  us  could  bring  him 
round.  Tis  a  pity  there's  no  woman  body  to  close 
his  eyes;  but  I'm  told  he  was  a  fine  soldier,  and 
I'll  look  in  and  see  the  last  of  him  mysel'." 

"No  one  shall  touch  him  but  myself,"  said  Ger- 
vase, "  I  shall  never  have  such  a  friend  again,  and 
God  knows  there  is  none  will  miss  him  as  I  will." 

Gervase  had  never  been  in  the  room  before,  and 
as  he  sat  down  by  the  bed  he  looked  round  him 
with  a  saddened  interest.  On  the  table  lay  the 
leather-bound  volume  he  remembered  so'  well. 
Above  the  bed  hung  a  broad  sword  with  its  hilt 
of  silver  richly  chased,  and  he  could  see  from 
where  he  sat,  that  there  was  a  legend  upon  the 
blade.  A  pair  of  spurs,  a  silver-mounted  pistol,  and 
a  long  pipe  of  foreign  make,  lay  on  the  mantelshelf. 
A  couple  of  high-backed  chairs,  a  few  simple 
cooking  utensils  in  the  hearth,  and  an  oak  press, 
the  doors  of  which  lay  open,  were  all  the  furniture 


276  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

in  the  room.  It  looked  bare  and  comfortless,  and 
it  seemed  to  add  to  the  pathos  of  the  tragedy  that 
a  man  with  so  much  that  was  gallant  and  loveable, 
should  die  friendless  and  unregretted  in  a  room  like 
this. 

Gervase  had  found  a  little  wine  in  a  bottle  and 
with  this  he  moistened  Macpherson's  lips  from  time 
to  time.  He  lay  motionless  all  day  with  his  eyes 
half  closed,  but  toward  evening  he  seemed  to  Ger- 
vase to  grow  delirious,  and  began  to  talk  in  a 
rambling  way,  with  a  thick  and  broken  utterance. 
His  mind  was  busy  with  his  old  campaigning  days, 
and  his  speech  was  full  of  foreign  cities,  and  of 
battles  and  sieges  and  ambuscades,  and  of  women  he 
had  loved  in  his  wild  free  life.  There  was  no 
coherence  in  the  matter;  only  a  meaningless  con- 
fusion of  unfamiliar  names.  Only  once  before  had 
he  raised  the  curtain  that  hung  over  his  past  life, 
but  he  had  made  no  secret  of  the  fact  that  his 
youth  had  been  a  riotous  one  and  full  of  wayward 
passion;  and  he  had  seemed  to  have  broken  with  it 
utterly.  But  now  it  had  all  come  back  again,  and 
his  mind  was  full  of  the  tavern  brawl  and  the  low 
intrigue  and  the  horrors  of  sack  and  siege.  It  was 
strange  to  hear  the  old  man  with  the  white  head 
and  haggard  face  that  had  grown  so  old  looking 
in  a  day,  babbling  of  the  fierce  delights  of  his 
youth  as  if  he  were  living  among  them  again. 
Gervase  would  willingly  have  closed  his  ears  but  he 
was  in  a  manner  fascinated  by  it. 

41 A  thousand  devils,  here  they  come.  Lord,  what 


OF  A  DEED  OF  TREACHERY.  277 

a  change!  They  ride  as  if  Hell  were  loose  after 
them.  The  pike  men  will  never  stand.  Close  down 
your  ranks.  There  they  go,  rolling  one  after 
another.  Pooh!  a  mere  scratch.  I'll  pour  out  my 
own  wine  and  drink  it  too ;  a  woman's  lips  are 
sweeter  after  a  draught  like  that.  Open  the  windows ; 
we  want  air — air  and  a  song.  Jack  will " 

Then  he  gave  a  loud  cry  and  started  up  as  if  in 
pain.  "Oh,  God!  I  have  killed  him — wipe  it  off, 
that  is  his  blood  upon  my  sword — wipe  it  off,  I 
tell  you.  You  see  how  his  eyes  will  not  shut;  they  stare 
at  me  as  if  he  were  still  alive.  You  she-devil,  I  will 
kill  you  as  I  killed  him.  I  cannot  draw  this  blade 
from  the  scabbard.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  why: 
his  blood  hath  glued  it  fast,  and  I  can  never  draw 
it  again — never.  Pooh !  you  are  a  fool.  " 

So  he  rambled  on,  while  Gervase  sat  compelled 
to  listen  and  put  together  the  history  of  that  stirring 
and  eventful  life.  Then  the  paroxysm  died  away, 
and  exhausted  with  his  passion  he  lay  quiet,  only 
his  lips  moving  and  his  spare  brown  hands  catching 
at  the  coverlet.  Once  or  twice  Gervase  thought  he 
heard  his  own  name,  but  it  might  have  been  mere 
fancy,  for  it  was  now  impossible  to  catch  the  words 
his  lips  tried  to  frame. 

According  to  his  promise,  Saunderson  had  looked 
in  during  the  course  of  the  evening,  but  as  he  said, 
rather  to  cheer  the  watcher  than  in  the  hope 
of  assisting  the  patient.  He  had  been  amazed  at 
the  great  hold  he  had  upon  life,  for  no  ordinary 
man  could  have  survived  such  a  wound  for  an 


278  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

hour.  He'll  be  away  before  the  morn,  "  he  said ; 
"you  can  see  how  he's  trying  to  loose  himsel'. 
Man,  'tis  a  strange  thing  this  dying,  and  we  a'  take 
our  ain  gait  about  it.  Some  die  hard  like  the  auld 
man  there,  and  some  slip  off  easily,  but  licht  or 
hard  'tis  a'  ane.  I've  seen  a  guid  few  lately.  I'm 
afeard  ye  can't  sit  here  this  nicht,  and  I'll  look  up 
some  stout  body  to  tak'  your  place.  " 

But  Gervase  would  not  hear  of  it.  He  had 
determined  to  see  the  last  of  his  friend  and  was 
determined  to  spend  the  night  at  his  bedside.  He 
had  seated  himself  in  the  chair  by  the  window,  and 
had  taken  up  the  little  book  which  bore  the  owner's 
name  on  the  title  page  and  the  words  "  Utrecht, 
1664,"  and  was  worn  and  marked  by  repeated 
using.  He  read  on  till  the  sunset  had  died  away 
and  it  became  too  dark  to  see  the  page.  Then  he 
closed  the  book  and  went  downstairs  in  search  of  a 
light. 

When  he  came  back  with  the  lighted  candle  in 
his  hand,  Macpherson  was  sitting  up  in  the  bed, 
with  his  eyes  staring  wide  open  and  his  hands 
stretched  out.  The  wound  had  burst  out  afresh  and 
the  blood  had  stained  the  white  counterpane. 

"  Listen,  Gervase, "  he  said,  "  listen,  my  son ! 
Do  you  hear  how  he  is  calling  me  ?  I  would  know 
the  sound  of  his  voice  among  ten  thousand — the 
sound  of  his  voice  that  I  loved.  I  would  have 
waited  for  you,  but  I  knew  him  first  and  loved  him 
first,  and  I  cannot  tarry.  Jack,  dear  Jack,  good 
comrade,  I  am  coming.  Oh!  the  marvellous  light — " 


OF  A   DEED   OF  TREACHERY.  279 

He  struggled  as  if  to  leave  the  bed  and  Gervase 
was  running  forward  to  restrain  him,  when  he  fell 
back  on  the  pillow,  with  his  eyes  and  mouth  wide 
open.  At  a  glance  Gervase  saw  that  it  was  all 
over;  his  faithful  friend  was  dead,  and  there  was 
no  need  for  watching  now.  As  he  stood  for  a  long 
time  looking  at  him,  the  hard  and  rugged  face 
seemed  to  soften  into  a  smile,  and  the  lines  that 
were  cut  deep  in  the  forehead  and  the  cheeks  had 
disappeared,  and  he  lay  like  one  asleep.  The  fight 
was  indeed  over,  and  the  reveille  would  awaken 
him  from  his  rest  no  more. 

They  buried  him  the  next  day  in  the  Cathedral 
yard,  four  men  of  his  own  regiment  carrying  the 
body  on  the  stretcher  on  which  they  had  brought 
him  home.  As  Gervase  saw  him  laid  in  the  shallow 
grave,  he  felt  that  he  had  lost  the  best  friend  and 
the  truest  comrade  he  was  ever  likely  to  find.  And 
there  the  ashes  of  the  old  soldier  still  lie  mingled 
with  those  of  many  another  who  fell  in  the  same 
quarrel  and  found  a  resting-place  there  from  all 
their  labours.  In  after  days  Gervase  erected  a  tablet 
to  his  memory,  with  nothing  more  than  the  name 
and  the  date  upon  it  and  these  words:  "He  laid 
down  his  life  for  his  friend." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OF  A   GREAT  ADVENTURE. 

MACPHERSON  died  toward  the  end  of  the  second 
week  in  July,  when  the  city  had  already  begun  to 
suffer  the  dire  extremities  of  famine.  The  provisions 
in  the  magazines  were  almost  exhausted ;  the  meal 
and  the  tallow  were  doled  out  with  a  sparing  hand. 
Already  the  citizens  had  begun  to  live  upon  food 
that  at  other  times  they  would  have  turned  from 
in  disgust  and  loathing.  Horse-flesh  was  almost 
becoming  a  luxury,  dogs,  rats,  and  cats  were  greedily 
devoured,  and  even  of  these  the  supply  was  begin- 
ning to  fail.  Putrid  fevers  had  broken  out  which 
carried  off  multitudes;  loathsome  diseases  of  the 
skin  grew  common,  and  even  the  strongest  began 
to  find  it  hard  to  draw  themselves  to  the  walls  or 
to  help  in  repelling  the  frequent  attacks  on  the 
outposts.  Added  to  this,  there  was  hardly  a  whole 
roof  in  the  city,  for  during  two  months  the  iron 
hail  had  been  continually  pouring  upon  them.  Many 
of  them  felt  indeed  that  death  would  be  a  welcome 
relief,  and  they  envied  those  who  were  already 
laid  in  the  churchyard.  But  still  they  held  out 
grimly,  and  with  faces  blackened  with  hunger, 
declared  that  they  were  ready  to  die  rather  than 


A   GREAT   ADVENTURE.  281 

surrender.  The  spirit  that  may  still  be  found  here 
and  there  in  the  Imperial  Province  burned  with  an 
unabated  flame — a  pride  which  two  centuries  has 
not  been  able  to  remove,  and  strong  almost  to 
fanaticism.  Yet  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that 
discontent  and  suspicion  should  grow  and  spread. 
Some  few  proved  insubordinate,  others  deserted 
to  the  enemy,  but  for  the  most  part  they  stood 
loyally  by  their  leaders. 

Hamilton  who  was  now  in  command  of  the  royal 
troops,  believing  that  the  time  had  come  when  his 
overtures  would  be  listened  to,  had  sent  a  message 
containing  liberal  terms,  but  after  some  fruitless 
negotiations,  they  refused  his  offer  and  determined 
to  hold  out.  A  messenger  had  been  able  to  find 
his  way  from  the  ships  with  a  letter  which  had 
revived  their  hopes  a  little,  but  they  had  lost  all 
faith  in  Kirke,  and  looked  only  with  stubborn  des- 
pair to  the  time  when  they  could  defend  themselves 
no  longer. 

After  the  death  of  Macpherson,  Gervase  had 
gone  about  his  duty  as  before,  but  he  had  greatly 
missed  the  wise  and  faithful  counsellor  whose 
friendly  comfort  had  helped  him  to  bear  his  trials. 
The  blow  that  he  had  sustained  had  been  very 
great,  and  he  had  felt  unwilling  to  face  Dorothy 
Carew  while  the  wound  was  still  fresh.  He  had 
determined  to  observe  the  old  soldier's  dying 
injunction  that  she  should  not  know  by  whose  hand 
he  had  fallen;  and  he  himself  would  have  desired 
even  if  the  command  had  not  been  laid  upon  him 


282  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

that  she  should  remain  in  ignorance  of  it.  He 
knew  that  she  had  already  suffered  much,  and  he 
was  desirous  of  sparing  her  further  pain.  Jasper 
had  not  appeared  again  in  the  city  nor  was  it  likely 
that  he  would,  so  that  it  could  serve  no  purpose 
of  any  sort  to  denounce  him  as  the  murderer. 

When  he  had  summoned  up  courage  and  met  Doro- 
thy for  the  first  time  since  Macpherson's  death,  she  had 
displayed  much  emotion,  but  it  had  not  occurred  to 
her  that  she  was  connected  in  any  way  with  the 
old  soldier's  end.  She  had  told  Gervase  that  her 
brother  had  disappeared,  and  that  she  had  no  doubt 
he  had  gone  over  to  the  enemy,  but  the  subject 
was  one  on  which  she  seemed  naturally  unwilling  to 
dwell  much,  and  he  on  his  part  did  not  press  it. 
It  struck  him,  however,  as  singular  that  she  did  not 
mention  De  Laprade ;  and  it  was  only  in  answer  to 
his  inquiry  that  she  told  him  that  he  was  making 
rapid  progress  towards  recovery.  She  herself  was 
looking  very  ill  and  wretched — so  ill  that  Gervase 
was  alarmed  at  her  appearance,  and  her  eyes  were 
red  as  if  she  had  been  weeping  recently. 

"  I  thought  I  was  strong  and  able  to  bear  anything," 
she  said,  "but  my  heart  is  breaking.  Is  there  no 
hope  for  us  anywhere? " 

tt  There  is  always  hope " 

"  I  see  that  you  can  give  me  no  comfort.  My 
aunt  is  dying  slowly,  and  she  bears  it  very  patiently. 
In  a  day  or  two  there  will  be  no  more  food  and 
then " 

"  And  then  there  will  be  plenty  if  God  helps  us, 


A  GREAT  ADVENTURE.  283 

Miss  Carew,"  Gervase  went  on.  "You  have  not 
despaired  till  now.  You  have  shown  us  an  example 
in  patient  courage  we  might  all  have  profited  by, 
and  you  must  not  let  your  heart  fail  you  now. 
You  may  tell  Lady  Hester  she  will  not  have  long 
to  wait.  In  three  days  the  ships  will  be  at  the 
quays  and  all  will  be  well." 

"I  think  you  have  always  told  me  the  truth,"  she 
said;  "but  how  is  this  to  happen?" 

"When  we  meet  again  I  shall  tell  you  that  and 
more;  you  must  not  ask  me  now,  but  I  believe  I 
speak  sincerely  and  with  truth." 

"I  have  always  trusted  you." 

"  And  always  may ;  there  is  nothing  I  would  not 
try  to  do  for  your  sake.  But  I  am  growing  a 
boaster,  and  I  have  done  nothing  and  perhaps  can 
do  nothing.  Only  do  not  let  your  heart  fail.  When 
we  meet  again  I  trust  the  joybells  will  be  ringing, 
and  there  will  be  bonfires  on  the  ramparts;  if 
not " 

"  It  is  too  good  news.  We  have  waited  so  long 
but  it  seems  as  far  away  as  ever." 

"I  think  it  is  coming  now.  Miss  Carew,  if  we 
should  never  meet  again,  I  want  you  to  remember 
that  I  thought  of  you  till  the  last,  and  that  all  I  did 
was  done — nay  I  should  not  say  that.  I  feel  that- 
we  shall  meet  again." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  look  of  awakened  fear. 
"  You  are  not  going  into  any  great  peril  ?  " 

"We  live  among  them,  one  and  all  of  us." 

"But  you " 


284  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

"Would  only  carry  your  thoughts  with  me — 
Dorothy,  my  best  beloved, "  he  cried,  taking  her  hand 
in  his,  "before  I  go  I  want  you  to  say  you  love 
me  as  I  love  you." 

She  drew  her  hand  away  quickly. 

"  I  cannot  I  cannot.  I  will  tell  you  why  here- 
after. My  God!  I  love  you." 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  again 
and  again  unresistingly.  Then  she  tore  herself  from 
his  embrace,  and  with  a  stifled  cry  rushed  from  the 
room.  But  he  went  away  happy,  with  her  last  words 
ringing  in  his  ears,  and  feeling  himself  ready  to  do 
the  work  he  was  about  to  undertake.  For  while 
he  was  talking  to  Dorothy  he  had  hastily  formed 
a  resolution  that  was  lying  dormant  in  his  mind 
for  days.  In  his  last  conversation  with  Macpherson, 
the  old  soldier  had  declared  his  intention  of  reaching 
the  ships,  and  Gervase  had  been  dwelling  on  the 
project  for  the  last  ten  days.  He  knew  the  task 
was  full  of  deadly  peril — it  had  already  been  twice 
attempted  without  success,  and  it  seemed  so  hopeless 
that  he  had  shrunk  from  undertaking  it.  But  the 
sight  of  Dorothy's  thin  and  wasted  face  had  removed 
all  his  doubts,  and  he  had  determined  to  make  one 
last  effort  to  induce  Kirke  to  undertake  the  relief. 
He  himself  believed  that  the  undertaking  was  not 
nearly  so  formidable  as  it  seemed,  and  if  once  a 
move  was  made  he  did  not  doubt  that  the  boom 
would  prove  no  very  serious  barrier.  But  the  great 
problem  was  to  reach  the  ships  which  were  lying 
far  down  the  river.  On  both  sides  of  the  bank  the 


A  GREAT  ADVENTURE.  285 

enemy  were  watching  with  a  vigilance  which  it 
seemed  impossible  to  escape.  Even  if  he  succeeded 
in  eluding  them,  he  could  hardly  hope  to  swim  the 
long  six  miles  in  the  condition  he  was  in,  and  to 
land  was  almost  certain  death.  But  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  make  the  attempt  and  to  trust  to  the  chapter 
of  accidents  to  carry  him  safely  through. 

As  he  went  to  look  for  Walker  from  whom  he 
desired  to  obtain  his  credentials,  he  felt  strong 
enough  for  anything.  Had  not  he  heard  from  the 
sweetest  lips  in  the  world  the  sweetest  words  he 
had  ever  heard  spoken.  Had  he  not  everything  to 
move  him  to  the  attempt?  If  he  lived  he  would 
show  her  that  he  was  not  unworthy  of  her  love, 
for  this  deed  was  one  that  all  men  would  not 
attempt,  and  few  could  carry  safely  through.  There 
was  glory  in  it  and  renown,  though  it  was  neither 
glory  nor  renown  that  he  sought. 

When  he  had  told  the  old  colonel  of  his  inten- 
tions, the  latter  at  first  tried  to  dissuade  him.  He 
was  only  flinging  his  life  away,  he  said,  for  no- 
thing. Others  had  tried  and  failed ;  he  could  not 
hope  to  succeed.  Even  if  he  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  ships,  which  he  could  not  do,  he  could  tell 
them  nothing  that  they  did  not  know  there.  Kirke 
was  a  coward  or  a  traitor,  and  they  could  not  hope 
for  help  from  him.  He  could  send  them  letters 
that  meant  nothing,  but  that  was  all.  But  Gervase 
was  not  to  be  dissuaded  by  any  argument.  He  had 
set  his  heart  upon  making  the  attempt,  and  his 


286  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

resolution  was  so  evident  that  at  length  Walker 
unwillingly  consented,  and  with  a  homely  piety 
commended  him  to  the  protection  of  Providence 
that,  however  it  might  frown,  had  not  forsaken 
them. 

"  We  will  say  nothing  of  this  to  any, "  he  had 
said,  "  but  will  keep  the  matter  closely  to  ourselves, 
for  the  folk  yonder  have  long  ears  and  can  hear 
our  whispers  here.  Some  time  before  midnight  we 
will  even  go  down  to  the  Waterside  together,  and 
as  you  are  a  brave  man  and  a  courageous,  there  is 
one  old  man  who  will  pray  for  your  safe  keeping 
and  deliverance.  I  shall  have  the  epistle  writ  out, 
and  I  pray  God  Kirke  may  be  the  first  to 
read  it." 

Gervase's  preparations  for  his  adventure  were 
easily  made.  He  had  left  a  letter  in  which  he 
had  made  a  disposal  of  his  effects,  in  case  any- 
thing happened  to  him,  and  had  written  another 
which  was  addressed  to  Dorothy  Carew.  The  only 
weapon  he  had  provided  himself  with  was  a  small 
hunting  knife  that  had  belonged  to  Macpherson, 
which  he  hoped  he  would  not  require  to  use  but 
which  might  prove  useful  in  an  emergency.  There 
had  been  some  rain  during  the  day,  and  the  night 
promised  to  be  dark  and  cloudy.  So  long  as  there 
was  no  moonlight  there  was  a  possibility  of  his 
making  the  attempt  with  a  reasonable  chance  of 
success,  but  should  the  moon  show  herself  he  could 
hardly  hope  to  remain  undiscovered. 

The  time  hung  heavily  on  his  hands  while  he  waited 


A  GREAT  ADVENTURE.  287 

for  the  hour  when  he  was  to  meet  Walker,  and  then  he 
found  himself  trembling  with  feverish  impatience. 
Walker,  however,  insisted  on  his  taking  supper 
before  he  left,  and  it  was  weeks  since  Gervase  had 
seen  so  plentiful  a  meal  spread  before  him.  The 
old  colonel  watched  him  with  a  serious  admiration 
as  he  made  huge  inroads  on  the  food,  and  when 
Gervase  had  finished,  he  went  to  a  cupboard  and 
produced  a  flask. 

"  You  have  had  the  last  of  the  meat, "  he  said, 
taking  the  cork  out  of  the  bottle,  "  and  now  you 
are  going  to  have  the  last  of  the  drink.  There 
are  two  glasses  left,  and  you  shall  have  both  of 
them.  Whenever  we  meet  again,  if  Heaven  pleases, 
we  will  crack  a  bottle  together.  I  love  a  brave 
lad,  and  if  age  had  not  taken  the  oil  out  of  my 
joints,  I  should  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to 
bear  you  company.  Now  drink  that  off  for  it  will 
keep  you  warm  in  the  water." 

Going  down  Ship  Quay  Street  together,  they 
passed  through  the  gate  and  came  out.  upon  the 
quay.  The  night  was  very  dark  and  a  slight  drizz- 
ling rain  had  begun  to  fall.  On  both  sides  of  the 
river  they  could  see  many  lights,  some  moving, 
some  stationary,  and  could  hear  the  sound  of  voices 
calling  and  answering  from  the  other  bank.  But 
the  river  was  flowing  darkly  at  their  feet,  and  a 
night  better  suited  for  his  purpose  Gervase  could 
hardly  have  found.  When  he  had  divested  himself 
of  his  boots  coat  and  vest,  he  stuck  the  short  knife 
in  his  belt,  and  fastened  round  his  waist  with  a  strip 


288  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

of  canvas  the  piece  ot  bladder  in  which  the  letter 
from  Walker  was  rolled. 

a  God  bless  you,  my  lad,  and  send  you  safe  back 
to  us.  I  feel  even  like  the  patriarch  when  he 
would  have  offered  up  his  son,  but  here  too,  it 
is  my  trust  the  Lord  will  not  require  a  life." 

"  I  feel  that  I  shall  come  back,  colonel, "  said 
Gervase;  "  never  fear  for  me.  Have  the  bonfires  ready 
to  give  us  a  welcome." 

The  old  man  in  the  excess  of  his  emotion,  took 
him  in  his  arms  and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead, 
and  then  Gervase  wringing  his  hand,  dropped  noise- 
lessly into  the  water  and  struck  out  into  the  stream. 
He  knew  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  husband 
his  strength  for  it  would  all  be  needed ;  so  after  he 
found  himself  well  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  he 
began  to  swim  slowly,  and  to  let  the  current  carry 
him  down.  If  the  night  should  continue  dark  it 
would  be  impossible  that  he  could  be  discovered 
from  the  land;  he  himself  could  only  dimly  make 
out  the  banks,  and  trusted  to  the  lights  to  help  him 
to  direct  his  course.  But  the  rain  had  ceased  and 
he  feared  that  the  clouds  were  beginning  to  break ; 
in  the  moonlight  they  could  hardly  fail  to  see  him. 

Still,  every  yard  he  made  was  a  yard  nearer 
safety,  and  to  some  extent  lessened  the  chances  of 
discovery,  for  the  further  he  descended  the  stream, 
the  more  lax  in  all  likelihood  would  their  vigilance 
become. 

As  he  swam  on  steadily  with  a  slow  strong 
stroke,  his  thoughts  were  busy  with  many  things. 


A     GREAT   ADVENTURE.  289 

He  thought  of  Dorothy,  who  loved  him  and  would 
repay  him  for  his  labour;  of  Macpherson,  whose 
brave  spirit  was  perhaps  keeping  him  company  on 
this  perilous  venture;  and  pardonably  enough,  of 
the  honour  he  would  gain  for  this  deed.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  that  having  reached  the  ships  there 
would  be  any  difficulty  about  the  relief  of  the  city. 
When  once  his  story  had  been  told,  they  must  up 
with  their  anchors,  if  there  was  any  manhood  among 
them,  and  try  the  mettle  of  their  guns.  He  imagined 
to  himself  with  what  joy  Dorothy  would  welcome 
him  back  when  he  came  among  the  first  with  the 
good  news. 

So  he  swam  on  for  half  an  hour  carried  slowly 
down  by  the  current,  and  then  for  the  first  time  he 
began  to  feel  that  he  had  overestimated  his  strength, 
and  that  his  extremities  were  growing  numb  and 
cold.  He  had  long  since  passed  the  lights  of  Penny- 
burn;  he  must  now  be  coming  close  to  the  boom 
where  would  be  his  first  great  danger,  for  the  lights 
yonder  on  either  side  of  the  river  must  be  the  lights 
of  the  forts  that  guarded  the  barrier.  The  water 
seemed  somehow  to  have  grown  colder  and  less 
buoyant,  and  worst  of  all,  the  moon  was  beginning 
to  show  through  the  masses  of  broken  cloud.  Three 
months  ago  he  would  have  found  little  difficulty  in 
swimming  twice  the  distance,  but  now  he  dragged 
himself  with  difficulty  through  the  water,  and  his 
shoulders  were  growing  stiff  and  painful.  What  if 
he  failed  to  reach  the  fleet  after  all !  His  mind  was 
filled  with  despair  at  the  thought,  and  he  pulled 


2  90  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

himself  together  with  an  effort  and  swam  on  with 
an  obstinate  determination  to  keep  himself  afloat. 
With  the  wind  blowing  freshly,  the  waves  came 
leaping  past  him  with  an  icy  shiver  that  seemed  to 
take  away  his  strength. 

But  there  was  gradually  forcing  itself  upon  his 
mind  the  conviction  that,  after  all,  he  must  land  and 
make  his  way  upon  foot  till  he  came  opposite  to 
where  the  ships  were  riding  at  anchor.  It  would 
be  better  to  make  for  the  shore  at  once  while  three 
hours  of  darkness  still  remained,  for  when  the  light 
came  it  would  be  impossible  to  travel.  While  he 
was  making  up  his  mind  as  to  where  it  would  be 
safest  for  him  to  land,  the  moon  came  out  suddenly 
with  a  startling  brilliance,  lighting  up  the  river  and 
the  banks  on  either  side.  He  could  now  see  Charles 
Fort  distinctly,  and  he  fancied  that  he  could  discern 
lying  across  the  river  the  dark  fabric  of  the  boom, 
with  the  water  leaping  into  white  waves  against  it. 
It  was  out  of  the  question  to  attempt  to  cross  the 
barrier  now;  even  where  he  was  swimming  his 
position  was  perilous  in  the  extreme. 

Then  he  saw,  near  the  shore,  a  small  hooker 
lying  at  anchor,  and  almost  without  knowing  why 
he  struck  out  towards  it.  There  was  little  or  no 
likelihood  of  there  being  anyone  on  board  and  if, 
as  seemed  to  be  the  case,  he  should  have  to  lie 
concealed  the  whole  of  the  day,  he  might  find  some 
food  on  board  the  little  craft.  He  swam  cautiously 
round  her,  but  he  could  hear  no  sound ;  then  catching 
hold  of  the  cable,  he  lifted  himself  up  by  the  bow- 


A  GREAT  ADVENTURE.  2QI 

sprit  and  found  himself  on  board.  She  was  decked 
forward,  and  though  he  did  not  know  for  what 
purpose  she  was  used,  there  was  a  large  gun  covered 
with  a  piece  of  canvas  lying  amidships.  But  though 
there  was  no  one  on  board,  a  small  lamp  suspended 
from  a  beam  was  burning  dimly  in  the  forecastle. 
He  felt  that  it  would  not  be  wise  to  tarry  long,  so 
diving  hastily  down  the  companion,  he  began  to 
investigate  the  contents  of  the  lockers.  In  one  he 
found  several  louis  which  he  left  undisturbed,  but  in 
another  to  his  joy  he  discovered  some  oat-cakes 
and  a  quantity  of  rum  in  a  case  bottle.  The  latter 
was  particularly  welcome,  and  after  a  dram  he  felt 
that  he  had  got  a  new  lease  of  strength  and 
vigour. 

The  circulation  was  beginning  to  return  to  his 
hands  and  feet.  He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a 
bunk  and  chafed  his  limbs  till  the  cramp  that  he 
had  begun  to  experience,  was  entirely  gone.  He 
was  beginning  to  think  that  it  was  time  to  take 
his  departure,  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  oars 
creaking  in  their  rowlocks  and  voices  almost 
alongside.  Hastily  extinguishing  the  light  he  drew 
out  the  knife  with  which  he  was  armed,  and  creep- 
ing out  of  the  forecastle  dropped  cautiously  down 
close  to  the  great  gun,  where  he  concealed  himself 
under  the  canvas.  Then  as  the  bow  of  a  boat 
grated  against  the  side  of  the  hooker,  he  could  see 
from  where  he  lay  a  man  and  a  lad  clambering  on 
board,  the  latter  with  the  painter  in  his  hand. 
"  Make  fast, "  said  the  former,  "  and  come  and  help 


2 92  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

me  to  get  the  mainsail  up.  They'll  be  aboard  in 
an  hour." 

The  man  made  his  way  into  the  forecastle  growl- 
ing and  swearing  at  the  lamp  having  gone  out, 
while  the  boy  clambered  over  the  boom  and  made 
fast  the  painter  to  a  ring  in  the  stern-sheets. 
Gervase  had  hoped  that  the  boy  might  have 
followed  the  man  into  the  forecastle,  and  that  he 
himself  might  then  have  dropped  overboard  unper- 
ceived.  But  in  this  he  was  disappointed,  for  the 
boy  instead  of  going  below  began  to  unloose  the 
earing  by  which  the  mainsail  was  fastened,  whistling 
as  he  did  so  with  a  clear  shrill  note  that  Gervase 
remembered  for  years  afterwards. 

Presently  the  man  came  up  from  below  swear- 
ing at  the  boy  for  the  noise  he  was  making,  and 
began  to  take  in  a  fathom  or  two  of  the  cable  by 
which  the  craft  was  moored.  There  seemed  to 
Gervase  no  chance  of  escaping  unperceived,  and  a 
better  opportunity  than  this  might  not  present  itself. 
So  while  the  man  knelt  with  his  back  turned  towards 
him,  and  the  boy  was  fumbling  with  the  halyards 
in  the  darkness,  he  rose  from  his  place  of  conceal- 
ment and  leaped  upon  the  bulwark. 

The  lad  hearing  the .  noise  turned  round  with  a 
look  of  terror  on  his  face.  "  Holy  Mother  of  God!  " 
he  cried,  "it's  a  spirit;"  and  as  the  man  turned 
round  where  he  was  kneeling  at  the  cat-heads,  he 
seemed  for  a  moment  to  share  his  belief  and 
participate  in  his  alarm. 

As   Gervase  dropped  noiselessly   into  the  water 


A  GREAT  ADVENTURE.  293 

they  were  both  too  bewildered  to  raise  any  alarm, 
and  the  river  bed  was  already  under  his  feet  before 
he  heard  their  outcry.  Then  they  called  out  loudly 
to  someone  on  the  shore.  Wading  through  the 
water  toward  the  land,  Gervase  noticed  for  the 
first  time  a  low  fort  built  of  sods  and  rough  timber 
close  to  the  bank.  At  the  hubbub  that  was  raised 
by  the  crew  of  the  hooker,  the  door  was  opened 
and  a  man  came  down  towards  the  water's  edge 
in  the  uniform  of  a  French  sergeant. 

Seeing  Gervase  come  upon  the  bank  and  mistak- 
ing him  for  one  of  the  crew  he  called  out,  "  Que  le 
diable  faites-vous  ce  bruit,  coquin?"  But  as  he 
came  down  and  saw  the  young  fellow  closer, 
clad  only  in  his  shirt  and  breeches,  he  immediately 
divined  what  was  wrong  and  came  running  down 
the  bank.  Gervase  waited  till  he  came  close  up; 
then,  and  it  was  an  old  trick  he  had  learned  years 
before,  he  put  out  his  foot  and  struck  him  a 
tremendous  blow  with  his  left  hand.  The  man 
went  headlong  into  the  water,  and  without  waiting 
to  see  what  became  of  him,  Gervase  ran  at  full 
speed  along  the  bank,  and  never  halted  to  take 
breath  till  he  found  himself  in  the  shelter  of  the 
wood,  that  at  that  time  grew  thick  along  the  bank. 

He  knew  that  in  a  short  time  the  pursuit  would 
be  hot  after  him  and  that  there  was  not  a  moment 
to  be  lost.  But  to  hasten  was  another  matter;  his 
feet  were  torn  and  bleeding,  and  so  painful  that 
he  could  hardly  put  them  to  the  ground.  While 
he  sat  down  to  rest  his  head  swam  like  one  in  a 


294  THE   CRIMSON    SIGN. 

vertigo.  But  if  he  was  to  carry  out  his  mission 
he  could  not  rest  now.  He  tore  off  a  piece  of 
his  shirt  which  he  wrapped  tightly  round  his 
wounded  feet,  and  set  off  again.  The  only  way  in 
which  he  could  make  certain  that  he  was  travelling 
in  the  right  direction  was  by  keeping  close  to  the 
river,  which  he  caught  sight  of  from  time  to  time 
through  the  trees.  But  his  motion  was  necessarily 
slow;  it  was  terrible  work  picking  his  way  over 
the  fallen  branches  and  rough  stones  that  jarred 
his  nerves  whenever  he  set  his  feet  upon  them. 
But  the  fate  of  the  city  was  on  his  shoulders  and 
the  hope  of  the  woman  he  loved. 

It  seems  strange  to  me,  the  writer,  and  may 
seem  strange  to  you  who  read,  but  the  last  words 
of  his  sweetheart  restored  his  drooping  heart  and 
renewed  his  failing  strength  whenever  he  thought 
of  them  through  this  adventurous  journey. 

The  night  was  nearly  over  and  the  dawn  was 
coming  up,  when  he  still  found  himself  in  the  wood, 
dragging  one  foot  slowly  after  another.  How  far 
he  had  gone  he  could  not  tell,  but  he  knew  that 
he  must  have  travelled  several  miles,  and  could  not 
be  far  from  his  destination.  He  feared  to  leave  the 
shelter  of  the  wood,  but  he  knew  that  he  could  not 
spend  the  day  here,  for  he  was  already  becoming 
weary  and  was  consumed  by  a  raging  thirst.  After 
a  while  the  wood  broke  and  there  was  a  stretch 
of  fields  before  him,  with  farther  on  some  growing 
timber  and  a  ruined  building. 

But   with  awakened   hope  he  could  now  see  the 


A  GREAT  ADVENTURE.  295 

ships  where  they  rode  at  anchor  some  two  miles 
away.  While  it  was  yet  a  grey  light  he  deter- 
mined to  take  advantage  of  it,  and  gladly  left  the 
tangle  of  the  wood  for  the  soft,  green  turf  that  gave 
him  some  relief  in  walking.  Then  he  came  to  a 
running  water  where  he  quenched  his  thirst  and 
bathed  his  wounds.  Following  the  course  of  the 
stream  would  bring  him  to  the  beach  where  there 
was  standing  a  house,  probably  a  fisherman's  cottage, 
surrounded  by  a  fence  and  a  few  fruit  trees  growing 
about  it.  It  was  yet  probably  too  early  for  the 
inmates  to  be  astir,  and  the  hope  dawned  upon  him 
that  he  might  perhaps  be  able  to  find  a  boat  upon 
the  beach,  for  he  knew  that  any  thought  of  swim- 
ming was  now  out  of  the  question.  There  was  a 
further  advantage  in  following  the  little  stream,  for  the 
briars  grew  thick  along  its  course  and  would  afford 
him  shelter,  while  the  country  was  open  beyond. 
He  did  not  hesitate,  but  set  off  with  as  much  speed 
as  he  could  make.  His  destination  was  now  in 
sight  and  his  chance  of  escape  had  considerably 
increased.  If  he  had  only  another  half  hour  of  twilight, 
he  thought;  but  this  was  not  to  be,  for  it  was 
rapidly  growing  lighter,  and  as  he  came  down  to 
the  cottage  it  was  already  broad  day. 

He  had  just  gained  the  fence  that  surrounded 
the  cottage,  when  looking  back  he  saw  a  body  of 
dragoons  beating  the  edge  of  the  wood  that  he 
had  left  half  an  hour  before.  They  had  not  caught 
sight  of  him  for  their  attention  was  fixed  on  the 
fern  and  briars  that  skirted  the  wood,  but  he  had 


296  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

not  a  moment  to  lose.  He  could  not  retrace  his 
steps  and  so  gain  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  little 
stream,  nor  could  he  now  make  for  the  beach  as 
had  been  at  first  his  intention.  But  crushing  his 
way  through  the  thorn  hedge,  he  came  into  a  little 
garden.  The  door  of  the  house  was  lying  open,  and 
he  saw  what  he  had  not  noticed  before,  that  the 
inmates  must  be  already  astir,  for  a  thick  smoke  was 
rising  into  the  morning  air.  He  knew  that  his 
pursuers  could  not  fail  to  find  him  in  the  garden, 
and  he  determined  to  take  his  chance,  and  to  trust 
to  the  humanity  of  the  people  in  the  cottage  to 
conceal  him.  This  resolution  he  had  taken  not 
without  some  hope  of  finding  friends,  for  there  was 
a  homeliness  and  air  of  comfort  in  the  place  that 
seemed  to  him  little  in  keeping  with  the  character 
of  the  Celt. 

When  he  entered  the  door  he  found  himself  in 
a  spacious  kitchen.  A  woman  was  standing  on  the 
hearth  cooking  some  fish  that  gave  forth  an  appe- 
tizing smell.  As  she  heard  him  coming  in  she  dropped 
the  frying  pan,  and  running  over  to  the  corner  of 
the  dresser,  seized  an  old  musket  that  was  lying 
against  it. 

"  For  God's  sake,  hear  me, "  cried  Gervase ;  "  do 
not  shoot." 

"  What  do  you  want?"  she  said,  still  holding  the 
weapon  ready  for  use  and  looking  at  him  with  a 
doubtful  air.  Her  speech  at  once  assured  him  that 
he  had  found  a  friend. 

"  I  have   come  from  the  city, "  he  said ;  "  I  have 


A    GREAT  ADVENTURE.  297 

been  travelling  all  night  and  am  trying  for  the  ships. 
The  dragoons  are  after  me  now,  and  if  you  do 
not  help  me,  I  will  be  taken." 

She  dropped  the  musket,  and  running  over  took 
hold  of  him  by  both  hands.  "  My  poor  lad,  my  poor 
lad,"  she  cried,  "you  are  but  a  woeful  sight.  If 
they  haven't  seen  you  coming  in  I  think  I  can 
save  you.  My  good  man  lay  a  day  in  the  loft 
and  they  couldn't  find  him,  though  they  searched 
high  up  and  low  down.  He's  in  the  city  like  your- 
self and  now  —but  I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  question 
or  two.  Where  are  they  now?" 

"Close  by  the  edge  of  the  wood  and  I  think 
they  are  coming  down  this  way." 

"  Then  my  questions  will  keep.  You'll  step  softly 
after  me,  for  the  young  folk  are  still  asleep  upstairs, 
and  it  would  never  do  they  should  see  you  now. 
I  was  before  Derry  myself,"  she  continued,  as  she 
led  the  way  up  the  ladder  to  the  loft  above  the 
kitchen,  "  but  they  are  well-mannered  enough  and 
don't  trouble  me  now." 

In  the  loft  above  were  two  beds,  in  one  of  which 
three  flaxen-headed  boys  were  lying  sound  asleep, 
and  as  Gervase  followed  her  the  woman  gave  a 
warning  gesture,  and  stopped  for  a  moment  to 
look  at  them.  Then  with  Gervase's  assistance  she 
noiselessly  pulled  away  the  other  bed,  and  disclosed 
a  recess  in  the  wall  which  was  wide  enough  to 
admit  him.  "Get  in  there,"  she  said,  "and  I'll 
call  you  when  they  are  gone.  If  they  haven't  seen 
you  they'll  never  think  of  looking  there;  if  they 


298  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

have,  God  help  me  and  the  children — but  I'll  do 
more  than  that  for  the  good  cause." 

When  she  had  left  him  and  had  gone  down  the 
ladder  after  replacing  the  bed,  Gervase  began  to 
regret  that  he  had  imperilled  the  safety  of  the 
kindly  soul  who  had  shown  anxiety  to  assist 
him.  But  it  was  not  his  own  safety  that  was  at 
stake;  it  was  that  of  the  city  and  the  lives  of  the 
citizens. 

He  lay  listening  for  the  sound  of  his  pursuers, 
but  the  moments  seemed  to  lengthen  into  hours 
and  still  they  did  not  make  their  appearance.  Mean- 
while the  good  woman  downstairs  had  gone  on 
cooking  the  breakfast  for  herself  and  the  children, 
and  had  set  out  the  rough  earthenware  on  the 
table  by  the  window.  When  she  saw  the  dragoons 
coming  across  the  fields  straight  toward  the  house, 
she  walked  to  the  threshold  and  met  them  with  an 
unconcerned  smile  on  her  face.  "  You  are  early 
astir  this  morning,"  she  said.  "Is  there  to  be  more 
trouble  in  these  parts?  I'm  thinking,  Captain  Lam- 
bert, I've  seen  you  before." 

"  Troth,  that  is  very  possible, "  was  the  answer, 
"  and  I  don't  think  you  have  seen  the  last  of  me 
either.  Now,  look  here,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  the 
truth,  a  thing  most  women  find  hard  enough  to  do, 
but  the  truth  I  must  have  or  I'll  know  the  reason, 
why.  Have  you  seen  anybody  afoot  this  morning  ? " 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  air  of  well-assumed 
astonishment. — "Why,  'tis  barely  five,  and  the 
children,  bless  their  hearts,  are  still  abed.  My  good 


A    GREAT  ADVENTURE.  2QQ 

man,  you  know,  is  away  yonder,  and  the  neighbours 
don't  trouble  me  now." 

"  Come,  my  lads,  we  must  search  the  house. 
We'll  get  nothing  out  of  her,  she's  as  close  as 
perdition. " 

"  If  you'll  tell  me  what  you  want, "  she  said,  "  I 
would  try  and  answer  you.  The  boys  are  sleeping 
upstairs  and  there  is  nobody  below  but  myself." 

"  A  fellow  from  the  city  has  come  this  way,  and 
I'll  take  my  oath  he's  here  or  hereabouts." 

"  God  help  him  then,  for  I  think  he'll  get  little 
further." 

"  That's  as  may  be,  but  we'll  see  if  he's  here  at 
any  rate.  Now,  my  men,  don't  leave  a  mousehole 
that  you  don't  go  to  the  bottom  of.  I've  a  shrewd 
suspicion  that  he's  not  far  off." 

They  searched  the  garden  and  lower  part  of  the 
house  without  success,  and  then  ascended  the  ladder 
into  the  loft.  The  boys  were  asleep  when  they 
came  up,  but  the  noise  awakened  them,  and  fright- 
ened at  the  red  coats  of  whom  they  stood  in  deadly 
terror,  they  set  up  a  great  crying  which  highly 
amused  the  soldiers.  It  may  also  have  somewhat 
diverted  their  attention,  for  they  failed  to  find  the 
hiding-place  in  which  Gervase  lay  concealed.  Return- 
ing downstairs  they  reported  that  it  was  impossible 
that  the  prisoner  could  have  concealed  himself 
above,  at  which  the  good  woman  who  was  enter- 
taining the  captain,  expressed  her  unbounded  sur- 
prise. 

"I  thought,"  she  said,  "you  would  have  brought 


300  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

him  down  with  you.  I'm  sure  my  man  would  be 
glad  to  hear  there  was  somebody  in  his  wife's 
bedroom.  But  you  have  strange  notions,  you  sol- 
diers, and  I'm  sorry,  Captain,  I  can't  ask  you  to 
stay  and  share  the  breakfast  with  me." 

The  dragoon  laughed  good-humouredly  and  flung 
a  couple  of  coins  on  the  table.  "  We're  not  so 
black  as  we're  painted, "  he  said,  "  and  there's  for 
your  trouble;  but  had  we  found  him  it  would  have 
been  another  story.  Now,  my  men,  to  the  right- 
about and  let  us  make  up  the  stream  the  way  we 
came.  He  hasn't  left  the  wood  yet." 

When  they  had  quitted  the  house,  the  woman 
took  her  pail  and  followed  them  as  far  as  the  well, 
watching  them  till  they  had  reached  the  wood  and 
disappeared  among  the  trees.  Then  she  released 
Gervase  from  his  hiding-place  and  he  was  now  in  no 
enviable  condition  either  of  mind  or  of  body.  He 
was  so  weak  that  he  found  it  difficult  to  make  his 
way  down  the  ladder  into  the  kitchen,  and  he  could 
scarcely  set  his  feet  to  the  ground.  The  woman 
looked  at  him  with  a  face  on  which  compassion  was 
plainly  written;  then  she  went  over  to  a  press  and 
took  out  a  coat  that  belonged  to  her  husband, 
a  coarse  shirt,  and  a  pair  of  worsted  stockings. 
"Now,"  she  said,  "just  step  behind  there,  and  make 
yourself  cosy  in  these.  If  Sandy  Graham  was  at 
home  he  would  make  you  welcome  to  the  best  he 
has.  Then  you'll  come  and  sit  down  and  tell  me 
about  my  good  man  and  the  city,  and  how  they 
fare  there  while  I  make  ready  something  to  eat, 


A   GREAT  ADVENTURE.  30 1 

for    God   knows    you    look    as   if  you    needed  it" 

Gervase  gladly  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  when 
he  was  dressed,  as  gladly  fell  to  upon  the  fresh  fish 
and  coarse  bread  which  seemed  to  him  the  sweetest 
meat  he  had  ever  partaken  of  in  his  life. 

While  he  went  on  with  his  breakfast  he  answered 
the  numerous  inquiries  as  well  as  he  was  able, 
while  the  boys,  who  were  now  stirring,  gathered 
round  in  admiration  of  the  young  giant  for  whom 
their  father's  ample  coat  was  far  too  scanty.  "  I'm 
sorry  you  don't  know  Sandy, "  she  said ;  "  it  would 
have  been  some  comfort  to  know  that  you  had  seen 
him.  I  knew  it  was  ill  with  you  in  the  city,  but 
I  never  thought  it  was  as  bad  as  that.  They'll  be 
thinking  of  ye  now  with  an  anxious  heart." 

"  They  know  nothing  about  me, "  Gervase  said ; 
"  only  Colonel  Walker  and  myself  are  in  the  secret. 
If  I  fail " 

"Tut,  man,  ye'll  not  fail  now.  I  think,"  she 
went  on,  looking  at  him  admiringly,  "  ye  could  find 
a  way  in  anything.  You  just  take  a  rest  on  the 
bed  upstairs,  and  I'll  watch  that  you're  not  dis- 
turbed. They're  not  bad  bodies,  the  redcoats,  and 
they  haven't  troubled  me  much  since  I  came  back  from 
Londonderry.  In  the  evening  I'll  see  you  farther." 

"If  I  only  could  find  a  boat,"  Gervase  said:  "I 
could  never  reach  the  fleet  by  swimming  now." 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  that, "  she  answered; 
*  there's  a  bit  of  a  coble  lying  in  the  cove,  but  the 
oars  are  gone  and  it  must  be  leaky  as  a  sieve,  for 
it  had  been  lying  there  all  the  summer." 


302  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

Gervase  caught  the  idea  eagerly.  "  Anything 
that  will  keep  me  afloat;  I  care  not  what  it  is. 
Mistress  Graham,  we'll  save  the  city  between  us." 

"  There  ye  go, "  she  said,  with  a  smile  of  gratified 
vanity.  "  Ye  could  never  make  the  two  miles  in 
yon  crazy  tub,  but  I'll  see  through  the  day  if  I 
can't  turn  my  hand  to  caulking  her  myself.  I've 
seen  it  done  and  I  think  I  can  try  it,  but  what  you'll 
do  for  oars  I  know  not.  However,  the  tide  will 
help  you  and  you'll  manage  somehow,  never  fear. 
It  will  be  a  great  day  when  ye  meet  Sandy  in  the 
Diamond,  and  tell  him  I  helped  you  through." 

Throughout  the  day  Gervase  remained  undisturbed 
in  the  cottage.  A  patrol  had  been  stationed  a  little 
distance  further  along  the  shore,  but  they  had  not 
again  visited  the  house.  Two  or  three  times  he 
heard  their  shouts  as  they  passed  at  a  distance. 
Mistress  Graham  had  kept  her  promise,  and  as 
well  as  she  was  able,  had  patched  up  the  little  boat, 
which  she  dragged  into  the  water  and  left  floating 
in  the  cove.  By  using  one  of  the  planks  which 
had  been  left  in  the  little  craft  as  a  paddle,  she 
hoped  that  he  would  be  able  to  make  his  way  to 
the  ships.  All  was  now  ready  for  his  journey,  and 
it  only  wanted  the  help  of  the  darkness  to  allow 
him  to  set  out 

It  was  a  bright  moonlight  night  when  they  went 
down  to  the  beach  together.  There  was  not  an  air 
to  ruffle  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  they  could 
see  very  plainly  a  couple  of  miles  away  the  riding 


A  GREAT    ADVENTURE.  303 

lights  of  the  ships  at  anchor.  The  patrol  that  had 
been  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cottage  during  the  day 
had  apparently  been  withdrawn,  for  they  had  not  been 
in  sight  since  sundown.  Gervase  found  the  coble 
more  than  half  full  of  water,  which  took  him  some 
time  to  bale  out,  and  when  he  was  ready  to  start 
he  wrung  the  hand  of  the  kind-hearted  woman 
warmly.  "  I  have  no  time  to  spare, "  he  said. 
"  God  reward  you  for  all  your  kindness !  You  had 
better  go  back  to  the  house  now,  for  if  I  should 
be  discovered  it  would  only  bring  you  into  trouble. 
I  hope  we'll  meet  under  better  fortune.  Farewell. " 
He  pushed  off,  and  sitting  down  amid  ships  began 
to  make  his  way  slowly  from  the  shore.  The 
woman  returned  to  the  door  of  the  cottage,  where 
she  stood  watching  till  the  black  speck  was  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

OF  HOW  GERVASE  REACHED  THE  SHIPS. 

THE  coble  was  a  poor  sea  boat  and  very  heavy 
for  its  size.  The  piece  of  timber  that  Gervase  used 
was  a  wretched  substitute  for  an  oar,  and  while  the 
tide  carried  him  rapidly  down  he  could  see  that  he 
made  little  progress  towards  the  ships.  If  he  should 
drift  past  them  it  was  impossible  that  he  could 
ever  make  his  way  against  the  current,  and  he  must 
be  carried  out  to  sea.  Fortunately  the  night  was 
clear,  and  the  wind  blew  in  fitful  airs,  coming  from 
the  shore.  Notwithstanding  his  utmost  exertion  the 
boat  hardly  seemed  to  move,  and  when  he  looked 
round  it  was  already  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
shore.  He  knew  that  he  was  still  far  from  being 
safe  from  pursuit.  He  could  still  easily  be  seen 
from  the  shore  in  the  broad  moonlight,  and  once 
observed  his  pursuers  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
finding  a  boat  in  which  they  might  easily  overtake 
him.  He  put  his  heart  into  every  stroke,  till  the 
perspiration  began  to  run  from  his  brows  and  his 
arms  ached  till  he  could  almost  have  cried  out  for 
the  pain.  But  he  was  making  his  way,  however 
slowly;  he  could  now  see  the  vessels  and  the  yards 
with  the  sails  flapping  idly  against  the  masts.  Over 


OF   HOW    GERVASE  REACHED   THE  SHIPS.     305 

the  water  came  the  sound  of  a  bell,  perhaps  calling 
up  the  watch,  and  for  the  first  time  he  realized  how 
near  he  was  to  safety.  But  the  boat  seemed  to 
him  to  go  more  slowly,  and  to  have  grown  more 
difficult  to  move.  Then  he  looked  down  and  saw 
that  the  water  was  almost  up  to  the  thwarts.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  abandon  the  paddle  and 
bale  out  the  water,  which  proved  a  long  and  labo- 
rious task.  When  he  had  accomplished  little  more 
than  half  the  work,  he  saw  that  a  little  more  delay 
would  bring  him  opposite  to  the  ships  and  still  far 
from  being  within  hail.  Again  he  seized  his  paddle 
and  strained  every  nerve  to  make  up  the  way  he 
had  lost.  His  mind  was  almost  distraught  with 
fear;  he  worked  like  one  possessed;  nearer  indeed, 
he  came,  but  Oh!  how  slowly.  The  boat  would 
not  move  in  this  sea  of  lead;  his  muscles  were 
beginning  to  refuse  to  act,  and  to  his  eyes  the  sea 
had  grown  red,  like  a  sea  of  blood.  His  last  hope 
was  dying  in  his  heart.  To  be  so  near  the  end  of 
his  journey,  to  have  passed  through  such  perils,  and 
to  have  failed  after  all — the  thought  was  maddening. 
Still  he  would  not  give  way,  and  he  knitted  his 
brows  and  set  his  teeth  hard.  Then  as  he  bent 
forward  the  paddle  slipped  from  his  hand,  and  went 
floating  away  astern.  With  a  despairing  cry,  weakened 
as  he  was,  he  fell  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat, 
and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  It  was  all 
over;  he  was  beaten  at  last,  and  had  failed  as  the 
others  had  failed  before  him.  For  a  minute  or  two 
he  lay  overcome  by  his  despair ;  the  sense  of  hopeless 

20 


306  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

failure  swallowed  up  every  other  feeling.  The 
thought  of  present  danger  did  not  present  itself  to 
his  mind;  he  had  seen  too  many  brave  men  meet 
their  death  in  these  latter  days  not  willingly  to 
adventure  his  own  life  lightly.  His  head  reeled,  his 
mouth  was  parched,  and  his  eyes  throbbed  with  an 
intolerable  pain.  Then  almost  without  knowing 
what  he  did,  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  tried  to  call 
out.  At  first  he  could  not  articulate  the  words,  but 
his  voice  died  away  in  a  feeble  murmur.  How 
near  he  seemed!  the  spars  stood  out  plainly  against 
the  sky,  and  the  lights  were  burning  clear  and  bright. 
He  thought  once  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  the  marin- 
ers calling  as  they  lay  out  on  the  spars  of  the 
brig  that  was  riding  nearest  to  him. 

Again  he  called  out — "Ship  Ahoy!"  and  this 
time  his  voice  came  strong  and  full,  but  though 
he  stood  and  listened  there  was  no  response  to 
his  shout.  A  third  time  he  called  out,  and  then 
to  his  inexpressible  delight  he  heard  a  hoarse  voice 
coming  over  the  water,  "  Ahoy!  what  boat  is  that?" 

Rising  once  more  to  his  feet  he  called  through 
his  hands,  "Help!  Help!"  and  sank  exhausted 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  incapable  of  making  any 
further  eifort.  He  waited  anxiously  but  there  came 
no  further  response,  and  the  little  boat  went  drifting 
down  with  the  tide.  He  began  to  fear  that  they 
had  not  heard  his  second  call.  Then — hours  after 
it  seemed — he  heard  the  measured  sweep  of  oars 
and  the  sound  of  voices  coming  nearer.  But  for 
his  life  he  could  not  raise  himself  above  the  gunwhale ; 


OF  HOW  GERVASE  REACHED   THE   SHIPS.     307 

his  strength  had  left  him,  and  he  was  as  feeble  as  a 
child. 

But  they  had  caught  sight  of  the  little  craft  where 
it  tossed  about  in  the  space  of  moonlit  water,  and 
in  a  minute  or  two  the  ship's  boat  was  alongside. 
Gervase  was  trying  without  success  to  answer  the 
questions  the  mate  of  the  brig  was  putting  to  him. 
Divining  at  a  glance  his  condition  they  lifted  him 
into  the  boat,  and  one  of  the  seamen  with  kindly 
pity  threw  his  rough  jacket  over  him  as  they  rowed 
to  the  brig.  He  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
utterly  helpless  and  unable  to  move;  but  his  heart 
was  full  of  inexpressible  emotion,  for  he  had  accom- 
plished his  work  and  saved  the  city. 

He  remembered  rowing  round  the  brig  and  seeing 
the  words  "  Phoenix  of  Coleraine"  painted  in  large 
white  letters  on  the  stern,  but  he  fainted  away  as 
they  lifted  him  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  and 
knew  nothing  more  till  he  found  himself  lying  in 
the  round-house  of  the  brig. 

"  What  piece  of  goods  have  ye  got  there, 
McKeller?  "  the  master  said,  standing  by  the  shrouds, 
and  looking  over  the  bulwark  as  they  lifted  Gervase 
aboard. 

"  As  fine  a  lad  as  ever  I  saw  in  my  life,  but  thin 
as  a  whipping-post — a  messenger  I  think,  from 
Londonderry.  Gently,  my  lads,  easy  with  his  head. 
Six  feet  two  of  manhood,  and  I  guess  a  rare  good 
one  with  his  whinger  if  he  had  his  senses  about 
him." 

They  carried  him  to  the  round-house,  and  laying 


308  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

him  on  the  floor,  poured  a  dram  of  aqua- vitas  down 
his  throat,  but  for  a  long  time  he  showed  no  sign 
of  life.  Then  they  noticed  the  letter  where  it  was 
secured. 

"You  were  right,  McKeller,"  said  the  master, 
as  he  handed  the  case  bottle  to  the  mate,  "  the 
youngster  comes  from  Londonderry,  and  he  brings 
the  message  with  him.  Mayhap  'twill  stir  up  the 
Colonel  at  last,  and  I  trust  it  will,  for  the  sake  of 
Tom  Robinson  and  my  sister  Marjorie.  My  God! 
what  that  young  fellow  must  have  come  through; 
and  a  gentleman  too,  as  I  judge  by  the  gewgaws 
on  his  finger." 

"  Ay,"  answered  the  mate  drily,  "  and  you  have 
given  him  a  pint  of  pure  spirits  by  way  of  welcome. 
You'll  hardly  hear  about  Tom  Robinson  for  a  while 
after  that." 

"Never  fear;  these  long-legged  fellows  stand  a 
lot  of  moistening.  I  wouldn't  for  half  my  share  in 
the  good  ship  Phoenix  have  missed  hearing  the  lad's 
hail  this  night;  he  never  would  have  lived  through 
a  night  in  the  boat — but  he's  beginning  to  come 
round." 

Gervase  showed  signs  of  returning  consciousness. 
His  first  action  was  to  feel  for  the  precious  letter, 
and  then  he  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  round  him 
with  a  gaze  of  vacant  inquiry.  "  Where  am  I  ? " 
he  said. 

"  Why,  just  aboard  the  brig  Phoenix,  Andrew 
Douglas,  Master,  hailing  from  Coleraine,  and  bound 
with  the  help  of  God,  for  the  port  of  Londonderry; 


OF   HOW   GERVASE  REACHED   THE  SHIPS.      309 

and  among  your  friends  if  you  are  what  I  take  you 
to  be.  Now  don't  trouble  your  head  but  just  take 
a  drop  more  of  this."  The  kindly  shipmaster  put 
the  bottle  to  his  lips  and  insisted  on  his  drinking. 

"Ye'll  kill  him,"  said  the  mate;  Bye  think  that 
everybody  has  the  same  stomach  for  strong  waters 
as  yourself.  It's  food  he  wants,  I'll  warrant,  not 
drink." 

•  "  And  food  he'll  have, "  cried  the  master  excitedly, 
"when  I've  brought  back  the  colour  to  his  cheeks, 
and  he'll  be  on  his  legs  in  a  twinkling.  Here,  Jack, 
you  skulking  rogue,  set  out  the  best  there  is  on 

board,   and  make  us  a  bowl  of  punch,  for  by , 

I'll  drink  the  health  of  the  bravest  fellow  I've  clapt 
eyes  on  for  a  twelvemonth." 

"You  would  drink  with  less  provocation  than 
that,"  said  the  mate,  lifting  Gervase  to  his  feet  and 
helping  him  to  a  seat.  "  Now  ye  can  tell  us  the 
news  from  Londonderry,  lad,  if  it's  true  ye  come 
from  there." 

"  I  came  thence  to-day — yesterday,  "  said  Gervase. 
"  They  can  hold  out  no  longer.  Where  is  Colonel 
Kirke?  I  must  see  him  immediately." 

The  master  looked  at  his  mate  with  a  broad  grin 
on  his  face.  "Faith  ye'll  not  see  the  Colonel  to- 
night, nor  early  in  the  morning  either.  If  he's  not 
abed  by  this  time  and  as  drunk  as  a  lord,  he's  on 
the  fair  way  to  it,  and  swearing  like  a  dragoon  with 
a  broken  head.  He's  a  terrible  man  in  his  cups, 
is  Kirke,  and  they  keep  it  up  rarely  on  board  the 
Swallow.  I  love  the  clink  of  a  glass  sometimse 


310  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

myself,  but — hoot !  there's  no  use  talking.  If  you're 
able,  spin  us  your  yarn  while  they're  getting  you 
something  warm ,  for  you  must  want  a  heap  of 
filling  out  to  look  like  the  man  you  were." 

Gervase  told  his  story  shortly  as  well  as  he  was 
able,  interrupted  repeatedly  by  exclamations  of  won- 
der and  horror  by  the  captain  and  the  mate,  and 
when  he  had  finished  they  sat  staring  at  him  open- 
mouthed. 

"  That  is  the  tale  as  briefly  as  I  can  tell  it, "  said 
Gervase,  "  and  you  will  not  wonder  that  I  would 
put  the  letter  in  Kirke's  hands  with  all  the  haste 
I  can.  Next  Wednesday  there  will  not  be  a  scrap 
of  food  in  the  city,  and  if  you  wait  till  then  you 
may  lift  your  anchors  and  go  back  to  where  you 
came  from.  For  God's  sake,  tell  me  what  you  are 
waiting  for?" 

"Till  Kirke  has  emptied  his  puncheons,"  said 
the  mate  bitterly. 

"Not  a  soul  on  board  the  fleet  thought  it  was 
going  so  hard  with  you,  but  you  had  better  see 
Leake,  who  is  a  plain-spoken  man  with  some  a.uthor- 
ity.  I  hear  he  is  all  for  making  up  the  river,  and 
your  story  will  help  him  to  move  the  scarlet-coated 
butcher  who  is  but  half-hearted  in  the  business." 

"  Colonel  Kirke  I  must  see  first""  said  Gervase ; 
"  my  message  is  to  him,  and  when  he  reads  Walker's 
letter  he  can  hesitate  no  longer.  All  that  is  wanted 
is  the  wind  and  the  tide.  There  need  be  no  fear 
of  the  guns,  for  in  Londonderry  we  have  learned 
what  they  can  do." 


OF    HOW    GERVASE  REACHED  THE  SHIPS.     311 

The  skipper  had  said  nothing,  but  sat  leaning  his 
head  on  his  horny  hand.  Then  he  seemed  to  awaken 
from  his  fit  of  abstraction.  "  And  poor  Tom  is  gone, 
you  tell  me?  He  was  a  younger  man  than  myself 
by  half  a  score  of  years,  and  as  likely  a  fellow  as  ever 
lived  when  I  danced  at  his  wedding  nine  years 
syne.  A  putrid  fever,  you  say.  Odds,  I  would 
like  you  could  have  told  me  how  it  is  with  Marjorie 
and  the  young  ones." 

"  He  chanced  to  be  of  my  regiment,"  said  Gervase, 
*  and  that  is  how  I  came  to  know  his  end.  But 
many  a  brave  fellow  has  fallen  into  his  last  sleep 
yonder,  and  all  for  want  of  a  little  manhood 
here." 

"For  God's  sake  tell  me  no  more  of  your  story," 
said  the  master,  "  but  even  fall  to  on  the  boiled 
beef,  and  don't  spare  the  liquor.  For  myself,  please 
Heaven,  I'll  drink  the  taste  of  your  yarn  out  of 
my  mouth,  though  belike  it  will  take  a  hogshead 
at  the  least  to  do  it." 

The  master  was  as  good  as  his  word;  while 
Gervase  and  the  mate  sat  down  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  table,  he  produced  a  great  bottle  from  a 
locker,  and  poured  out  a  large  measure  of  spirit, 
which  he  drank  at  a  draught  without  any  dilution 
of  water.  He  filled  the  glass  a  second  time  and 
drank  it  without  a  word.  It  was  clear  that  he  was 
determined  to  drown  his  grief,  and  as  Gervase 
glanced  at  him  from  time  to  time  in  amazement,  he 
went  on  steadily  until  the  bottle  was  nearly  empty. 
The  mate  said  nothing,  only  shaking  his  head  as  though 


312  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

the  sight  was  not  a  novel  one  and  remonstrance 
was  out  of  the  question.  "  He'll  maunder  a  bit 
by-and-by, "  he  said  in  an  undertone,  "  and  then 
he'll  turn  in;  'tis  the  way  of  him — he's  a  good 
Christian  and  a  rare  seaman,  but  liquorish.  We've 
all  our  faults  and  he  was  born  with  a  thirst.  Surely 
ye  haven't  finished?  why,  man,  I  thought  ye  were 
starved  yonder,  and  ye  haven't  done  more  than 
nibble  at  the  good  meat!" 

"Try  the  punch,"  said  the  master,  by  this  time 
some  way  in  his  cups,  with  his  face  shining  like  a 
furnace;  "try  the  grog,  and  never  mind  McKeller; 
I  have  to  do  his  drinking  and  my  own  as  well, 
and  'tis  devilish,  hard  work,  let  me  tell  you.  No 
man  can  say  that  Andrew  Douglas  ever  shirked 
his  duty." 

"When  it  came  in  the  shape  of  rum  puncheons," 
said  the  mate.  "  Now  ye'll  just  turn  in,  and  I'll 
see  that  the  young  gentleman  is  made  comfortable. " 

The  master  was  induced  to  retire  with  a  good 
deal  of  difficulty,  while  Gervase  and  the  mate  sat 
down  to  a  long  talk  together,  as  the  result  of  which 
Gervase  came  to  the  conclusion  that  all  his  difficul- 
ties were  not  yet  over.  Then  he  turned  in  and  forgot 
all  his  troubles  in  a  sound  and  refreshing  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

OF  A   STORMY  INTERVIEW. 

GERVASE  slept  soundly  that  night  on  board  the 
Phoenix,  and  in  the  morning  the  mate  insisted  on 
his  making  use  of  his  shore-going  suit,  into  which 
Gervase  was  able  to  get  with  some  difficulty. 
When  he  came  on  deck  the  day  was  bright  and 
cloudless,  with  a  warm  sweet  air  blowing  from  the 
north-west  and  the  sea  hardly  broken  by  a  ripple. 
The  ships  lay  at  anchor  near  them ;  the  Dartmouth 
with  her  rows  of  guns  showing  through  the  open 
ports;  beyond  lay  the  Swallow  and  a  little  further 
away  the  Mountjoy,  both  of  which  vessels  Ger- 
vase had  seen  before. 

But  his  first  glance  was  toward  the  city  lying 
far  up  the  river,  and  he  was  filled  with  joy  when 
he  caught  sight  of  the  crimson  flag  still  flying  from 
the  Cathedral  Tower. 

The  master  was  early  astir  and  met  Gervase  on 
the  deck,  with  his  red  face  freshly  shaven  and  clad 
in  his  best  suit  which  had  been  brought  out  for 
the  occasion.  He  was  very  contrite  over  his  last 
night's  potations,  and  made  many  polite  inquiries 
as  to  how  his  guest  had  passed  the  night.  The 
anxiety  of  Gervase  to  be  put  on  board  the  Swallow 


314  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

to  deliver  his  message  to  Kirke,  was  so  great  that 
he  could  hardly  restrain  his  impatience  during  the 
breakfast  to  which  the  master  and  himself  sat  down 
together.  But  they  had  assured  him  that  the  Colo- 
nel had  not  slept  off  the  fumes  of  his  last  night's 
excesses,  and  that  of  all  men  he  was  the  least 
approachable  in  the  morning.  It  was  necessary  to 
find  Kirke  in  good  humour;  so  Gervase  stifled  his 
impatience,  though  his  feelings  were  so  strong  and 
so  bitter  that  he  doubted  whether  a  less  fitting 
messenger  than  himself  could  have  been  found  for 
his  errand. 

a  Ye'll  just  tell  him  your  plain  story  like  a  plain 
man, "  said  the  mate,  "  and  leave  the  rest  in  the 
hands  of  the  Almighty.  I  know  ye'll  find  it  hard 
to  shorten  sail,  but  'tis  the  only  way  ye'll  make  the 
port  after  all." 

"I  don't  understand  the  matter  at  all,"  Gervase 
answered.  "Here  am  I  with  a  message  to  yon 
sluggard  that  should  make  his  ears  tingle  for  the 
duty  he  has  neglected  and  the  days  he  has  wasted 
in  useless  waiting.  One  would  think  'twas  a  favour 
I  was  begging  at  his  hands.  When  His  Majesty 
hears " 

"Tut,  man,  His  Majesty— God  bless  him!  will 
never  come  to  know  the  rights  of  it.  Just  put 
your  pride  in  your  pocket  and  take  as  a  favour — 
when  ye  get  it — what  should  come  to  you  by  right. 
I  don't  see  myself  that  the  thing  is  as  easy  as  ye 
make  it  A  ship's  timbers  are  dainty  enough,  and 
yon  boom's  an  ugly  sort  of  thing  ;  not  to  speak  of 


OF  A   STORMY  INTERVIEW.  315 

the  cannon  in  the  forts  and  the  channel— that's 
ticklish  at  the  best  of  times." 

"  When  a  kingdom's  at  stake,  one  might  run  a 
little  danger  without  being  foolhardy." 

"I'm  not  saying  that  he  mightn't  and  I  would 
willingly  try  it  myself  if  I  had  the  chance,  but  you 
must  make  allowances.  I  hear  they  had  a  parson 
aboard  there  the  other  day  who  gave  them  some 
plain  speech  and  got  a  flea  in  his  ear  for  his  pains. 
Fair  and  softly  will  carry  for  many  a  mile.  I'll 
go  with  you  myself  and  maybe  put  in  a  good  word 
if  I  can.  The  boats  are  ready  and  we'll  be  along- 
side in  a  twinkling." 

As  they  rowed  towards  the  Swallow,  which 
carried  Kirke's  flag,  Gervase's  mind  was  full  of  the 
way  in  which  he  should  deliver  his  message,  while 
Douglas  sat  beside  him  pouring  his  homely  counsel 
into  his  ear.  It  was  evident  that  the  latter  stood 
in  no  little  dread  of  the  commander  who  had  won 
for  himself  an  unenviable  notoriety  for  cruelty  and 
severity,  and  was  clearly  doubtful  of  the  reception 
that  awaited  an  envoy  who  knew  so  little  regarding 
the  character  of  the  man  with  whom  he  had  to 
deal.  But  Gervase  had  determined  that  if  all  else 
failed  he  would  speak  out  his  mind  without  any 
fear  of  the  consequences.  He  had  not  undertaken 
this  perilous  journey  and  faced  so  many  dangers  to 
shrink  from  plain  speech  if  that  would  serve  his 
purpose. 

The   master  of  the   Phoenix   on  the  news  being 


316  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

brought  that  Kirke  would  receive  them  immediately 
in  the  gunroom,  was  like  to  have  turned  tail 
incontinently  and  left  Gervase  to  face  the  redoubt- 
able soldier  alone.  "  The  boatswain  yonder  is  an 
old  crony  of  mine, "  he  said,  "  and  we  don't  often 
have  a  chance  of  a  quiet  word.  I  wish  you  all 
luck,  but  I  think  I'll  step  forward  and  have  a  bit 
of  speech  while  you  do  your  errand." 

"  By  your  leave,  but  the  General  must  see  you 
both,  Master  Douglas, "  said  the  man  who  had 
brought  the  message ;  "  if  you  don't  come  now  I'll 
have  to  fetch  you  by  the  ears  by-and-by.  He  hath 
ten  thousand  blue  devils  tearing  his  liver  this 
morning,  so  that  we  cannot  bind  or  hold  him.  But 
you  have  seen  the  General  after  a  wet  night  with 
a  head  wind  in  the  morning." 

"  I  was  a  fool  to  come  aboard,  "  Douglas  muttered. 
u  Speak  to  him  fair  and  soft,  Mr.  Orme, "  he  continued, 
taking  Gervase  by  the  arm,  "  if  ye  would  have  the 
tyke  listen  to  ye,  but  for  God's  sake  don't  cross 
him." 

"  I'll  tell  him  a  plain  story  that  wants  no  gloss, " 
Gervase  answered.  "  You  need  not  be  afraid  that 
I  shall  speak  outside  my  commission.  Now,  sir, 
I  am  at  your  servic  e. " 

"  He'll  get  a  flea  in  his  ear, "  muttered  Douglas, 
letting  go  his  arm,  and  dropping  behind.  "  Send 
me  well  out  of  this. " 

When  they  entered  the  gunroom,  Gervase  saw 
a  small  knot  of  officers  seated  at  breakfast,  which 
was  nearly  over.  At  the  head  of  the  table  was  the 


OF  A  STORMY  INTERVIEW.  317 

man  he  had  come  so  far  to  seek  and  who  carried 
the  destiny  of  the  city  in  his  hands.  His  dark  brow 
was  blotched  and  seamed  by  excesses,  his  eyes 
were  prominent  and  bloodshot,  and  his  jaws,  heavy 
and  coarse,  gave  to  his  face  an  expression  of  ferocity 
and  obstinacy.  He  lay  back  lazily  in  his  chair,  his 
throat  divested  of  his  cravat,  and  his  richly-laced 
waistcoat  unbuttoned  and  thrown  open.  For  a  time 
he  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  new-comers,  but  con- 
tinued his  conversation  in  a  languid  way  with  the 
gentleman  who  sat  on  his  left  hand.  Gervase  who 
had  come  into  the  centre  of  the  room,  stood  silent 
for  a  minute  or  two,  waiting  for  some  sign  of 
recognition,  but  Kirke,  studiously  ignoring  his  pre- 
sence, never  once  looked  up.  Then  Gervase  stung 
into  action  by  what  seemed  merely  studied  insult, 
quietly  came  forward  and  laid  Walker's  letter  on 
the  table. 

"I  was  charged,  sir,  to  deliver  this  into  your 
hand  without  fail  at  the  earliest  moment.  It  brooks 
of  no  delay." 

"  And  who  the  devil  are  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  A  humble  gentleman  who  with  some  peril  to 
himself  has  succeeded  in  escaping  from  the  city 
and  finding  his  way  thither.  But  the  letter  I  carry 
will  tell  its  own  tale." 

"  They  might  have  chosen  a  messenger  with 
better  manners, "  said  Kirke,  taking  up  the  missive, 
"  but  these  citizens  know  no  better. " 

"These  citizens,  sir,  have  set  you  a  lesson  which 
you  have  not  been  fain  to  follow,"  cried  Gervase, 


3l8  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

disregarding  all  the  hints  he  had  received  and  giving 
vent  to  the  indignation  that  had  become  ungovern- 
able. "  For  nine  weeks  they  have  served  His  Majesty 
as  king  was  never  served  before;  spent  themselves 
in  his  service;  seen  their  wives  and  children  dying 
before  them ;  and  now  they  want  to  know  what 
you  have  done  and  what  you  purpose  doing?" 

For  a  moment  or  two  the  general,  who  was  not 
accustomed  to  such  speech  in  the  mouth  of  a  rough 
seaman,  as  Gervase  seemed,  sat  astonished  and 
aghast.  Then  he  leapt  to  his  feet  and  pushed  over 
the  chair  he  had  been  sitting  on.  "  God's  wounds  i 
I'll  teach  you  to  use  such  words  to  me  if  there's 
a  yard-arm  on  the  ship.  Who  are  you  that  dares 
to  question  me  in  my  own  vessel.  You  hear  him, 
gentlemen,  you  hear  him,  by " 

"  They  have  heard  us  both,  sir,  and  I  wish  His 
Majesty  could  have  heard  us  also,"  cried  Gervase, 
who  saw  that  there  was  only  one  way  to  deal 
with  the  hectoring  bully  of  whom  most  men  stood 
in  awe.  "  They  have  heard  us  and  they  may  judge 
between  us.  I  hold  the  King's  commission  like 
yourself,  and  can  answer  for  my  conduct  in  any 
fitting  time  or  place.  But  this  matter  is  of  more 
importance  than  your  dignity  or  mine.  The  salvation 
of  some  thousand  lives  depends  upon  it,  and  the 
last  hold  of  His  Majesty  upon  Ulster  and  Ireland. 
Colonel  Walker  hath  bidden  me  place  this  letter 
in  your  hands  without  delay.  I  have  only  done 
my  duty,  and  am  no  whit  afraid  of  you  or  of  any 
other  man  living." 


OF  A   STORMY   INTERVIEW.  319 

Gervase  had  spoken  quietly  and  with  a  fine  glow 
on  his  cheeks.  The  gentlemen  at  the  table  who 
had  preserved  an  expectant  silence,  looked  at  one 
another  with  a  chuckle  of  amusement  as  Kirke 
broke  the  envelope  without  a  word.  In  the  reading 
he  glanced  once  or  twice  at  Gervase,  and  when  he 
had  finished  he  threw  the  paper  with  an  oath  across 
the  table.  "Read  that,  Leake, "  he  said.  "This 
parson  in  the  buff  coat  thinks  that  round  shot  can 
be  cooked  like  peas,  and  that  a  ship's  sides  are 
harder  than  stone  walls.  To  hear  him  one  would 
think  that  we  had  no  more  than  an  hour's  sail  to 
find  ourselves  at  the  quay,  with  meat  and  mutton 
to  fill  these  yokels'  bellies." 

The  gentleman  to  whom  he  had  thrown  the  let- 
ter, a  bluff,  red-faced  sailor,  with  a  frank  brave  look 
that  met  you  honestly,  read  the  letter  in  silence, 
and  then  spread  it  open  before  him.  "  You  had 
better  hear  what  the  young  gentleman  has  to  say. 
Colonel  Walker  seems  to  trust  him  implicitly,  and 
I  should  like  to  hear  how  he  came  from  the  city. 
Tvvas  a  bold  feat  and  deserves  a  better  reception 
than  you  have  given  him." 

"My  reception  hath  not  closed  yet,"  said  Kirke 
savagely.  "  But  I  am  ready  to  hear  what  he  hath 
to  say,  and  if  I  find  him  tripping,  fore  God " 

"I  have  faced  death  too  often  during  these  three 
weeks, "  said  Gervase  gravely,  "  to  fear  the  threats 
of  any  man,  and  I  will  speak  what  is  on  my  mind 
boldly " 

"And  briefly,  for  I  am  not  a  patient  man." 


320  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  We  in  the  city  trusting  to  the  expectation  of  speedy 
succour  from  England,  have  made  our  defence  as  I 
think  defence  was  never  made  before.  We  have  lost 
seven  thousand  men;  those  who  remain  are  but 
living  skeletons,  stricken  with  sore  diseases.  We 
are  distraught  with  our  afflictions,  and  almost  fear 
rather  to  live  than  to  die.  We  can  do  no  more. 
On  Wednesday  morning  there  will  not  be  a  pound 
of  meat  in  the  magazines,  and  the  last  stronghold 
of  faith  and  freedom  in  Ireland  will  have  fallen. 
And  this  is  what  they  say  yonder  and — and  what 
I  say  here.  In  the  Lough  are  ships  and  men  and 
food  and  guns,  and  a  water-way  to  the  city  walls. 
A  little  courage,  a  bold  push,  and  the  boom  that 
you  seem  to  fear  would  snap  like  a  thread.  And 
they  know  not  how  to  use  their  guns.  We  who 
have  listened  to  their  music  for  months  have  ceased 
to  fear  them." 

"And  the  boom,"  cried  Leake;  "how  know  you 
that?" 

"  This  I  know,  that  there  never  was  wood  yet 
that  could  resist  the  edge  of  an  axe  if  there  were 
strong  arms  to  will  it.  You  have  long  boats  and 
men  courageous  enough  to  try  it.  With  your  leave 
I'll  show  them  how  it  can  be  done  myself." 

"  By  Heaven,  the  lad  is  right.  If  we  were  once 
past  Culmore " 

"  There  is  no  great  danger  there,"  said  Gervase, 
feeling  that  he  had  met  a  spirit  as  bold  and  resolute 
as  his  own,  "  their  balls  fly  as  innocent  as  wild 
duck.  Let  the  frigate  hold  by  the  fort,  so  that 


A  STORMY   INTERVIEW.  321 

under  her  shelter  the  smaller  vessels  may  pass 
unscathed. " 

"We  want  none  of  your  lessons,"  cried  Kirke; 
"  you  have  listened  to  sermons  so  long  that  you 
have  caught  the  trick  of  preaching  yourself." 

"  My  sermon  is  not  yet  finished,  General  Kirke, " 
continued  Gervase,  disregarding  the  hint  the  friendly 
sailor  gave  him,  and  determined  to  unburden  his 
mind  once  and  for  all.  "  You  have  lain  here  and 
done  nothing  for  us.  The  king,  I  am  told,  hath 
sent  you  an  urgent  message  that  the  relief  should 
be  undertaken  without  delay.  To-day  you  may 
carry  out  his  commands ;  to-morrow  you  may  return 
to  England  and  tell  him  your  cowardice  hath  lost 
him  a  kingdom.  The  lives  of  the  starving  souls 
yonder  will  be  on  your  head.  These  are  bitter 
words,  but  I  speak  them  out  of  a  full  heart,  and 
if  you  will  not  listen  to  me  now,  His  Majesty  will 
hear  me  presently,  for  aj  God  is  my  witness,  I  will 
carry  my  story  to  the  foot  of  the  throne." 

"  You  will  carry  it  into  the  Lough  with  a  shot  at 
your  feet,"  cried  Kirke,  purple  with  passion. 

"You  dare  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  sir,  here  in 
the  sight  of  these  gentlemen  and  in  the  full  sight 
of  the  people  of  England,  who  will  soon  know  the 
whole  matter.  I  am  the  ambassador  of  the  governor 
who  holds  the  city  for  His  Majesty,  and  it  is  by  his 
authority  that  I  speak  the  words  that  I  have  used. 
I  am  a  gentleman  like  yourself  holding  His  Majes- 
ty's commission,  and  owing  you  neither  respect  nor 
authority. " 

21 


322  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

Kirke  leaped  to  his  feet,  his  face  swollen  red, 
and  his  eyes  blazing  with  a  fierce  passion  that  over- 
mastered his  speech.  He  caught  up  the  scabbard 
of  the  sword  that  lay  beside  him  and  attempted  to 
draw  the  blade.  Then  Leake,  who  was  sitting  near 
Gervase,  caught  the  outspoken  envoy  by  the  shoulders, 
and  while  Kirke  still  stood  swearing  incoherently, 
hurried  him  out  of  the  gun-room.  When  they 
reached  the  deck  he  clapped  him  on  the  back  with 
his  broad  palm,  and  cried  with  enthusiasm,  "  I  like 
your  spirit,  my  lad;  that  was  the  way  to  stand  by 
your  guns  and  rake  him  fore  and  aft.  But  it  was 
ticklish  work,  let  me  tell  you,  to  tackle  him  that 
way.  He  has  got  the  wolf's  tusk  in  his  mouth  (he 
learnt  that  in  Tangier)  and  likes  to  see  a  pair  of 
heels  dancing  in  the  air.  But  you've  done  the 
trick,  I  think,  this  time,  and  the  old  Dartmouth 
will  have  a  chance  of  trying  her  ribs  against  the 
iron  yonder.  Now,  clear  your  mind  a  bit  and  just 
tell  me  your  story  like  a  sensible  lad,  for  you've 
got  some  common  sense,  and  let  me  see  if  I  can't 
make  some  use  of  your  knowledge  after  all." 

"I've  been  a  weak  fool,"  said  Gervase,  "to  forget 
myself  when  so  much  depended  on  my  discretion. 
I've  ruined  the  best  cause  in  the  world." 

"  You  have  done  nothing  of  the  sort,  sir,  if  I  can 
lay  a  ship's  head  by  the  compass.  You  have 
carried  your  point  and  the  burghers  yonder  will 
hear  the  roaring  of  our  guns  before  the  day  is  out. 
The  general  hath  been  told  what  we  dared  not  tell 
him  in  plain  speech  that  there  is  no  mistaking. 


A  STORMY   INTERVIEW.  323 

Now  let  me  know  how  matters  are  in  the  city,  and 
what  men  and  guns  they  have  in  the  fort  yonder 
at  Culmore. " 

Then  Gervase  told  his  whole  story  soberly  and 
plainly,  without  colour  or  exaggeration,  but  with 
such  truth  and  effect  that  his  hearer  was  so  lost  in 
admiration  that  he  never  interrupted  him  till  he  had 
drawn  his  tale  to  a  close.  Then  he  swore  many 
oaths,  but  swearing  with  such  honest  and  kindly 
feeling  that  Gervase  forgave  him,  that  such  brave 
fellows  were  worth  putting  their  lives  in  peril  for, 
even  if  it  did  not  profit  His  Majesty  a  farthing. 
And  then  he  questioned  Gervase  searchingly,  his 
eye  scanning  him  narrowly  all  the  time,  about  the 
forts  between  the  city  and  the  castle  of  Culmore, 
and  where  the  cannon  were  posted  and  what  was 
the  weight  of  the  guns.  "Now,"  he  said,  in  con- 
clusion, "  get  you  back  with  Andrew  Douglas,  who 
is  an  honest  man  and  a  good  mariner,  and  you'll  see 
what  you  will  see.  If  there  should  be  a  little  more 
wind  and  more  northing  in  it,  I'll  stake  my  reputation 
we'll  try  of  what  strength  yon  timbers  are,  and  you 
and  I  will  get  our  share  of  the  glory.1  Glory,  lad! 
That  stirs  the  blood.  That  thought  about  the  long 
boats  was  a  shrewd  one,  and  I  have  an  idea  of  my  own 
about  the  way  to  draw  their  teeth  at  Culmore." 

Douglas  was  waiting  for  Gervase  in  the  boat  of 
the  Phoenix,  and  welcomed  him  with  a  grim  smile 
as  he  took  his  place  beside  him.  He  said  nothing, 
but  motioned  to  the  two  sailors  to  push  off  and  row 
to  the  brig.  When  they  got  out  of  earshot,  he 


324  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

burst  into  a  hoarse  cackle  of  laughter  that  grated 
unpleasantly  on  Gervase's  overstrung  nerves. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it, "  he  cried,  clapping 
his  brown  hands  on  his  knees,  "for  a  puncheon  of 
rum.  Man,  ye  gave  it  to  him  finely,  and  ye  talked 
like  a  book  straight  up  and  down.  A  good 
wholesail  breeze  all  the  way  and  lying  your  course 
as  straight  as  an  arrow.  It  did  my  heart  good  to 
hear  you.  And  he  couldn't  get  in  a  word — never 
a  word,  but  stared  at  you  out  of  his  red  bulging 
eyes,  and  choked  about  the  jaws  like  a  turkey  cock 
strangling  in  a  passion.  You're  a  well  plucked  one 
and  no  mistake.  I  had  thought  to  see  you,  as  he 
said,  at  the  end  of  the  yard-arm." 

"Yon  swaggering  bully  is  an  arrant  coward," 
said  Gervase,  "  and  I  wonder  how  he  came  to  be 
chosen  for  a  work  like  this.  For  all  his  bluster 
I  saw  that  he  was  quailing,  and  I  was  determined 
that  he  should  hear  the  truth  for  once  in  his  life." 

"He  didn't  hear  a  third  of  it,  but  I'm  thinking 
he  heard  as  much  as  was  good  for  him.  Will  they 
move,  think  ye?" 

"Leake  says " 

"He's  a  man  at  any  rate;  I'd  like  to  know  what 
he  says." 

"That  we'll  see  what  we'll  see.  He  thinks  my 
speech  hath  done  little  harm,  but  I  know  not  whether 
it  hath  done  any  good.  God  grant  that  it  hath." 

"  Amen  and  Amen  to  that.  Now  let  us  go 
aboard,  and  let  us  see  whether  your  adventure  has 
taken  away  your  appetite. " 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OF    HOW   THE  GREAT  DELIVERANCE  WAS  WROUGHT. 

ON  their  regaining  the  deck  of  the  Phoenix  McKeller 
manifested  great  anxiety  to  hear  the  result  of  the 
interview,  and  the  master  had  a  greatly  interested 
audience  as  he  proceeded  to  describe  the  scene 
with  many  embellishments  and  quaint  touches  of 
his  own.  What  seemed  to  have  struck  him  most 
was  Kirke's  helpless  rage,  and  the  speechless  anger 
he  exhibited  at  the  attack  upon  his  courage  and 
capacity. 

Gervase  lay  against  the  bulwarks  listening  without 
a  word;  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  square  tower 
of  the  Cathedral  rising  through  the  pall  of  smoke 
that  overhung  the  city.  In  thought  he  saw  the 
haggard  gunners  on  the  war-torn  battlements,  and 
the  sorrowing  crowd  pouring  out  from  the  morning 
service.  His  mind  was  filled  with  the  horror  and 
misery  of  it,  and  his  heart  was  bitter  within  him.  He 
suddenly  started  and  cleared  his  eyes  as  if  he  could 
not  trust  his  sight ;  then  he  looked  again.  "  Merciful 
God!"  he  cried,  "the  flag  is  down." 

The  little  knot  of  men  round  him  turned  to  look 
too,  and  they  saw  with  sinking  hearts  that  the  flag, 
the  garrison's  token  of  defiance,  was  no  longer 


326  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

waving  on  the  Cathedral  tower.  A  great  silence 
fell  upon  them  all — a  silence  in  which  one  heard 
the  lapping  of  the  water  about  the  bows  and  the 
distant  scream  of  the  sea-birds,  startling  and  shrill. 

"  God's  curse  light  on  all  traitors  and  cowards !  " 
cried  McKeller. 

Then  they  saw  two  jets  of  fire  spurt  forth  from 
the  tower,  and  a  little  later  the  sullen  roar  of  the 
ordnance,  and  the  hope  came  into  their  hearts  that 
it  was  only  in  sign  of  their  dire  extremity  that  the 
garrison  had  hauled  down  the  flag.  And  they 
waited  and  watched,  and  again  they  heard  the 
thunder  of  the  cannon  pealing  from  the  tower.  Then 
above  the  crown  of  smoke  they  saw  the  crimson 
flag  run  up  the  staff,  and  they  knew  the  city  was  still 
inviolate.  An  involuntary  cheer  broke  from  the 
crew  of  the  Phoenix,  which  was  taken  up  by  the 
other  vessels,  and  a  minute  or  two  afterwards  the 
Swallow  fired  a  salvo  in  response. 

"They  have  awakened  up  at  last,"  cried  the 
master.  "Now  we'll  even  go  below  and  try  the 
boiled  beef,  and  mayhap  a  runnel  of  grog." 

"Not  a  drop  of  grog,"  cried  McKeller,  "  but  what 
boiled  beef  you  like.  The  wind  is  freshening  from 
the  north,  and  the  Lord  may  want  sober  men  for 
this  day's  work." 

The  captain  was  not  destined  to  join  in  their  midday 
meal;  hardly  had  they  sat  down  and  hardly  had 
McKeller,  who  generally  acted  as  chaplain  by  reason 
of  his  superior  gravity,  finished  the  long  grace  by 
which  the  meal  was  introduced,  than  a  messenger 


HOW  DELIVERANCE  WAS  WROUGHT.  327 

came  from  Kirke,  that  Douglas  was  to  hasten  with 
all  expedition  on  board  the  Swallow. 

"  The  more  haste  the  less  speed, "  cried  the  Captain, 
to  whom  the  summons  was  by  no  means  a  welcome 
one,  and  who  had  no  taste  for  a  further  interview 
with  Kirke.  "  I'll  have  to  answer  for  your  speech, 
Mr.  Orme,  I'm  thinking.  I  wish  McKeller  there 
was  in  my  shoes." 

"  You  were  still  good  to  McKeller,  "  laughed  the 
mate,  "  but  this  time  you'll  have  to  do  your  own 
business. " 

"  I  hope, "  said  Gervase,  "  that  this  time  it  means 
business  and  not  more  speech.  And  I  think  it  does. 
Bring  us  the  news,  Master  Douglas,  that  you  are 
to  lift  your  anchor,  and  I'll  not  forget  you  as  long 
as  I  live." 

"  Please  Heaven,  you  may  look  for  your  night- 
cap in  Deny  to-night" 

*  With  a  sound  head  to  put  it  in." 

a  The  boat  is  waiting,  and  so  is  the  General, "  added 
the  mate. 

The  captain  hurried  out  of  the  round-house,  and 
Gervase  and  the  mate  sat  down  to  finish  their  midday 
meal  with  but  little  appetite  for  their  repast  The 
conversation  between  them  flagged,  and  then  the 
mate  went  out  and  presently  returned  with  his 
prayer-book  under  his  arm,  from  which  he  began  to 
read  in  a  low  monotonous  tone,  following  the  words, 
like  a  backward  schoolboy,  with  his  forefinger.  He 
never  looked  up  but  sat  with  his  rough  unkempt 
head  bent  over  the  book. 


328  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

Half  an  hour  passed  in  this  way,  when  they 
heard  the  sound  of  the  boat  alongside  and  the 
Captain's  voice  shouting  to  get  the  mainsail  set. 

Presently  he  burst  into  the  cabin,  his  face  all 
glowing  with  excitement  and  his  small  blue  eyes 
dancing  in  his  head.  He  ran  forward  and  caught 
Gervase  in  both  his  arms,  "  It's  come  at  last,  dear 
lad,  'tis  come  at  last.  Your  speech  hath  done  it, 
and  we'll  moor  by  the  quay  to-night  with  the  bless- 
ing of  God.  This  is  no  time  for  books,  McKeller, 
no  time  for  books.  The  Lord  be  praised!  We're 
up  the  river  in  an  hour.  Browning  and  myself  and 
the  old  Dartmouth,  with  Leake  to  give  us  the  lead." 

Gervase  and  McKeller  were  on  their  feet  shaking 
one  another  by  the  hand.  They  could  hardly  believe 
the  good  news.  Then,  overcome  by  his  feelings  so 
long  pent  up,  Gervase  burst  into  tears  and  sobbed 
aloud.  The  captain  stood  aghast,  but  the  mate 
laid  his  hand  on  the  young  fellow's  shoulder  and 
said  with  rugged  kindliness:  "I  like  you  all  the 
better  for  your  tears,  Mr.  Orme;  you  have  shown 
that  you  can  do  a  man's  work,  with  a  man's  heart 
under  your  jacket;  'twill  do  you  good, — rain  on  the 
parched  grass,  as  the  book  has  it.  Now,  you  old 
sea  dog,  what  are  you  staring  at?  Go  on  with 
your  story  and  let  us  know  what  we  have  to  do." 

"I'll  clap  you  in  irons  for  a  rank  mutineer," 
laughed  the  captain.  "Lord  love  you,  when  I  got 
aboard  Kirke  was  like  a  lamb;  not  a  damn  in  him, 
but  all  'By  your  leave'  and  'At  your  pleasure'.  The 
council  of  officers  had  resolved  to  attack  the  passage 


HOW  DELIVERANCE  WAS   WROUGHT.          329 

that  afternoon,  the  wind  and  the  tide  being  favour- 
able, and  the  messenger,  that  being  you,  Mr.  Orme, 
having  brought  news  that  rendered  their  instant 
moving  imperative,  and  more  stuff  of  that  kind.  I 
could  have  laughed  in  his  face,  but  for  the  cruel 
white  and  red  in  his  eye.  I  don't  like  a  man  to  have 
too  much  white  in  his  eye." 

"  Go  on  with  your  story." 

The  Dartmouth  goes  first,  and  draws  the  fire  at 
Culmore ;  we  go  on  with  what  speed  we  can  till  we 
get  to  the  barrier.  That  must  give  way  by  hook 
or  crook,  and  then  up  the  river.  A  good  day's  work, 
I'm  thinking,  but  the  little  Phoenix  will  do  her  share 
if  Andrew  Douglas  be  alive  to  see  it." 

"With  the  help  of  God  we'll  all  see  it,"  cried 
the  mate.  "This  will  be  a  great  day  for  all  of  us." 

"  Serve  out  a  measure  of  rum  to  every  man-jack 
on  board,  and  get  under  way  with  all  the  haste  ye 
can.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ye'll  see  the  little 
Phoenix  slipping  through  the  water  like  a  seagull. 
Come,  Mr.  Orme,  and  lend  a  hand  with  the  wea- 
pons. I  take  it  you  are  well  used  to  them." 

Gervase  followed  the  captain  on  deck  where  the 
men  were  busy  with  the  halliards,  and  all  was  lively 
confusion  and  disorder.  The  seamen  were  already 
swarming  on  the  yards  of  the  Dartmouth,  and  the 
long  boat  of  the  Swallow  was  in  the  water,  with  the 
carpenters  hammering  upon  the  rough  barricade 
with  which  they  were  protecting  her  sides.  The 
wind  which  from  the  morning  had  been  blowing  in 
quiet  airs  from  the  north-west,  had  gone  round  to 


330  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

the  north  and  had  freshened  somewhat.  In  the 
summer  sky  there  was  hardly  a  cloud ;  the  waves  leapt 
and  flashed  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  vessels  were 
beginning  to  plunge  at  their  cables  in  the  livelier  sea. 

By  the  time  that  Gervase  had  finished  his  scrutiny 
of  the  cutlasses  and  muskets,  and  had  seen  to  the 
loading  of  the  three  guns  that  the  Phoenix  carried, 
McKeller  and  the  men  had  the  vessel  under  sail. 
Then  the  windlass  was  manned,  and  it  was  only 
when  the  anchor  had  been  lifted,  and  the  little 
vessel  was  slipping  through  the  water  that  Gervase 
felt  their  work  was  really  begun  and  his  task  was 
about  to  be  completed.  The  captain  himself  had 
taken  the  tiller,  standing  square  and  firm,  with  his 
coat  thrown  aside,  and  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt 
rolled  up  and  showing  his  brown,  muscular  arms. 

"  There  goes  the  Dartmouth, "  he  cried  to  Gervase, 
who  was  standing  near  him,  "  well  done,  and  sea- 
manly.  And  the  Mountjoy — she  has  the  lead  of 
us,  being  weightier  and  more  strongly  timbered.  I 
don't  grudge  it  to  Browning;  he's  a  good  fellow 
and  a  gallant  seaman.  We've  sailed  together  ere 
now.  And  the  old  Jerusalem — she'll  come  up  when 
the  eggs  are  boiled.  We'll  have  to  knock  once  or 
twice  before  they  let  us  in." 

The  Dartmouth  led  the  way  with  her  ports  open 
and  the  iron  muzzles  of  her  guns  all  agrin,  the 
white  sails  on  her  lofty  spars  swelling  out  under 
the  freshening  wind.  She  did  not  wait  for  her 
consorts,  but  held  her  way  steadily  toward  the 
river's  mouth  where  the  castle  of  Culmore  guarded 


HOW  DELIVERANCE   WAS   WROUGHT.          331 

the  entrance.  The  Mounljoy  outsailed  the  Phoenix 
much  to  the  chagrin  of  Douglas,  and  three  cables' 
lengths  already  divided  them.  The  men  leaned 
over  the  bulwarks  watching  the  fort  where  they 
could  see  the  soldiers  hastening  to  the  guns,  and 
could  hear  the  drums  beating  the  alarm.  As  yet 
the  Dartmouth  was  not  within  range  of  the  cannon, 
but  already  a  round  shot  or  two  had  come  skipping 
along  the  water  and  had  fallen  short.  As  they  drew 
toward  the  river's  mouth  the  breeze  had  grown 
lighter,  and  Gervase  feared  that  the  afternoon  would 
set  in  a  stagnant  calm.  But  they  had  the  tide  with 
them,  and  the  wind  blew  fairly  up  the  river. 

"There's  the  music  now, "  cried  Douglas,  as  the  guns  of 
the  fort  flashed  along  the  ramparts  ;  "  there's  a  hole  in 
the  royal  yonder,  but  'twill  take  more  than  that  to 
turn  old  Leake.  Will  he  never  let  them  hear  him?" 

The  Dartmouth  was  already  within  range,  but 
she  held  on  her  way  gallantly,  never  answering  the 
fire  that  was  poured  upon  her.  Again  and  again  the 
guns  of  the  fort  flashed  out,  and  the  frigate's  canvas 
was  torn  by  the  shot,  but  her  spars  remained  un- 
touched. Still  Leake  held  on  steadily,  his  guns  still 
silent  and  his  men  sheltering  themselves  as  best 
they  could  behind  the  bulwarks.  Only  when  he 
came  within  close  range  so  that  every  shot  might 
tell,  his  guns  spoke  for  the  first  time.  Again  and 
again  the  living  sheet  of  flame  leapt  from  the  open 
ports,  and  the  great  shot  went  crashing  into  the 
fort.  As  the  fire  of  the  enemy  slackened  percep- 
tibly the  seamen  set  up  a  great  cheer  which,  was 


332  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

caught  up  by  the  men  of  the  Mountjoy  that  had 
now  come  nearly  alongside  and  was  holding  its  way 
up  the  river.  Lying  abreast  of  the  fort  and  within 
musket  shot  the  crew  of  the  frigate  plied  the  fort 
with  cannon  and  with  small  arms,  while  the  Mountjoy, 
followed  by  the  Phoenix,  came  drifting  slowly  up 
channel  past  the  castle  and  safely  out  of  range  of 
its  guns.  Then  the  Dartmouth,  her  work  being 
done,  was  moored  in  the  bend  of  the  river  above 
Culmore,  while  the  merchant  ships  went  slowly  up 
the  narrow  and  winding  channel,  and  the  men  in 
the  Swallow's  long  boat  kept  them  company  and 
bent  to  their  oars  with  a  will.  The  great  guns  in 
the  earthen  forts  along  the  river  gave  them  welcome 
as  they  came,  and  the  musket  balls  went  singing 
by  their  ears. 

It  was  a  sight  to  see  Douglas  at  the  tiller,  with 
a  broad  smile  on  his  face  and  the  dancing  light  of 
battle  in  his  eyes.  Once  or  twice  he  laughed  aloud 
as  some  of  the  smaller  spars  came  tumbling  to  the 
deck.  And  now  in  the  pauses  of  the  great  guns 
and  above  the  rattle  of  the  muskets,  they  could 
hear  in  the  summer  air  the  shouts  of  the  citizens 
from  the  walls — shouts  of  triumph  and  delight.  On 
that  scene  the  chroniclers  have  dwelt  with  some 
pride  and  much  pathos.  Every  man  who  could 
drag  himself  to  the  wall  was  gathered  there  that 
summer  day.  Gaunt  and  hollow-eyed;  so  hunger- 
stricken  that  they  could  scarcely  stand,  wasted  by 
fever  and  by  wounds,  they  took  up  the  joyous  shout 
of  triumph.  Stout  soldiers  gave  way  to  tears  upon 


HOW  DELIVERANCE  WAS  WROUGHT.  333 

the  necks  of  their  comrades.  Their  anguish  and 
despair  were  swallowed  up  in  the  hope  of  present 
deliverance.  Here  and  there  little  groups  were 
kneeling  as  in  prayer  for  the  safety  of  those  who 
were  bringing  them  succour,  and  never  was  prayer 
more  earnest  offered  to  the  God  of  battles. 

Meanwhile  the  Mountjoy  and  the  Phoenix  were 
coming  close  upon  the  boom,  and  the  forts  on 
either  side  were  plying  them  with  shot.  Douglas 
never  moved.  One  of  the  seamen  was  struck  down 
beside  him,  but  he  never  turned  his  head.  The 
wind  was  coming  in  little  airs,  but  the  tide  was 
running  hard.  Gervase  saw  the  Mountjoy  through 
the  smoke,  a  cable's  length  ahead,  suddenly  strike 
upon  the  wooden  barrier  that  lay  across  the  river. 
Then  the  gallant  little  vessel  swung  round  and 
grounded  in  the  narrow  channel.  A  great  cheer 
went  up  from  the  banks,  while  they  saw  the  red- 
coats hastening  to  their  boats  to  board  the  stranded 
ship.  "Now,  McKeller,  see  what  you  can  do 
with  the  long  gun,"  cried  Douglas,  as  the  mate 
with  Gervase's  assistance  brought  the  cannonade  to 
bear  on  the  mass  of  men  who  were  moving  to 
the  bank.  But  the  master  of  the  Mountjoy  was  a 
stout  seaman  and  knew  his  work.  Quickly  his 
guns  were  brought  to  the  landward  side,  and  at  the 
discharge  the  little  vessel  slipped  into  the  channel 
again,  and  went  floating  toward  the  boom  with  the 
running  tide.  Meanwhile  the  Swallow's  long  boat 
under  the  boatswain's  mate  had  been  laid  alongside  the 
barrier,  and  the  bluejackets  were  plying  it  with  cut- 


334  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

lasses  and  hatchets.  Every  man  did  his  best  that 
hour,  and  as  the  Mountjoy  struck  the  boom  a  second 
time,  the  great  barrier  cracked  and  broke  and  went 
swinging  up  the  river. 

Me  Keller  leapt  upon  the  bulwarks  regardless  of 
the  risk  he  ran,  and  waved  his  hat  with  fine  enthu- 
siasm: "God  save  Their  Majesties,"  he  cried,  "and 
down  with  Popery." 

Every  man  on  board  knew  that  the  work  was 
done  and  the  city  was  saved.  But  the  wind  had 
fallen  with  the  afternoon  and  it  was  a  dead  calm. 
Only  with  the  tide  the  vessels  came  slowly  up  the 
river ;  then  the  long  boats  of  the  Swallow  took  them 
in  tow,  and  with  the  setting  sun  the  vessels  came 
drifting  into  Ross's  bay.  It  was  ten  o'clock  at  night 
when  the  Phoenix,  Andrew  Douglas,  Master  (and 
a  proud  man  was  he !),  came  to  its  moorings  at  the 
little  quay  close  by  Ship  Quay  Gate. 

No  man  has  such  gift  of  speech  as  to  describe 
the  scene  when  the  master  stepped  ashore  and 
raised  his  hat  in  presence  of  the  thronging  crowd. 
Men  and  women  went  frantic  in  their  joy.  Falling 
upon  each  other's  necks  and  wringing  one  another 
by  the  hand,  they  forgot  that  stern  reserve  that 
marks  their  race  and  people.  Bonfires  were  lighted 
upon  the  ramparts,  and  the  bells  rang  out  a  joyous 
peal,  and  all  the  while  the  unlading  of  the  ship 
went  on,  till  all  men  were  satisfied,  and  the  terror 
of  the  morning  seemed  like  a  dream  that  had 
passed  away. 


HOW  DELIVERANCE  WAS  WROUGHT.          335 

Gervase  left  the  Phoenix  unnoticed  in  the  tumult, 
and  made  his  way  through  the  deserted  streets  to 
his  old  lodging.  The  door  was  lying  open,  but 
the  house  was  deserted.  Simon  and  all  his  family 
were  in  all  likelihood  among  the  crowd  at  the  quay. 
Then  he  lighted  his  lamp  and  sat  down  to  enjoy 
his  golden  dreams  alone.  His  heart  was  filled  with 
the  thought  of  what  he  had  done  and  of  the  reward 
he  hoped  to  win. 

He  would  call  upon  Dorothy  in  the  morning  — 
Dorothy,  whose  sweet  face  had  kept  him  company 
through  his  perils,  and  the  thought  of  whom  had 
moved  him  in  his  dangers.  She  had  told  him  that 
she  loved  him. 

The  darkness  was  gone  and  they  had  come  into 
the  sweet  sunshine  at  last.  And  so  he  dreamed  his 
dreams  till  Mistress  Sproule  returned  laden  with 
her  spoils,  and  gave  him  a  joyous  welcome  as  to 
one  who  had  come  back  from  death. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

OF  HOW  THE  VICOMTE  MADE  HIS  GREAT 
RENUNCIATION. 

ON  the  following  morning  Gervase  was  up  betimes. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  a  new  world  had  opened 
out  before  him  with  boundless  possibilities  of  joy 
and  hope.  For  weeks  he  had  been  dragging  him- 
self about  like  one  bent  under  the  infirmities  of  age ; 
to-day  the  blood  of  youth  ran  quick  in  his  veins. 
With  a  pride  that  was  pardonable,  he  felt  that 
he  had  done  his  task  manfully  and  performed  his 
share  in  a  work  as  memorable  as  any  in  his 
time.  He  had  won  honour  for  himself,  and  he  had 
found  the  one  woman  who  realized  his  boyhood's 
ideal.  She  was  waiting  for  him  now — waiting  with 
that  glad  and  joyous  look  in  her  steadfast  eyes 
that  had  thrilled  him  at  times  when  his  grief  had 
weighed  upon  him.  She  must  know  that  the  work 
he  had  undertaken  was  done  for  her  sake,  and  that 
he  would  be  with  her  presently  to  claim  his 
reward. 

Simon  Sproule  came  to  see  him  when  he  was 
seated  at  breakfast,  a  good  deal  shrunk  and  wasted, 
but  bearing  himself  with  his  brave  and  confident 


THE  VICOMTE'S   GREAT  RENUNCIATION.       337 

air  for  all  the  troubles  he  had  passed  through.  The 
young  soldier  was  one  of  the  linendraper's  heroes, 
and  Simon  had  come  this  morning  to  offer  abun- 
dant incense  at  the  altar  of  his  worship. 

"  We  are  both  proud  of  you,  Mr.  Orme,  Eliza- 
beth and  myself.  I  heard  the  whole  story  from 
Andrew  Douglas  last  night,  and  it  was  done  like 
an  ancient  Roman,  sir,  but  in  no  foreign  or  pagan 
spirit  It  was  a  great  feat  and  should  be  remem- 
bered for  many  a  day.  " 

"  It  will  be  forgotten  in  good  time,  "  said  Ger- 
vase  cheerfully,  u  and  was  no  very  wonderful  busi- 
ness after  alL  But  I  am  glad  for  your  sake  the 
fighting  is  over,  for  yours  and  your  wife's  and " 

"  Do  not  mention  them.  Oh !  I  cannot  bear  it,  sir. 
There  were  eight  of  them  when  you  came  back 
with  the  old  captain,  eight  white-haired  youngsters 
that  gathered  about  the  table  and  made  music  for 
me— and  now  there  are  but  four  of  them.  It  was 
the  judgment  of  God  for  their  father's  cowardice.  " 

"  I  think  you  did  your  best,  Simon,  "  Gervase 
said  gently. 

"I  did  all  that  I  could,  and  that  was  nothing; 
but  it  was  the  pretending  that  was  my  sin.  I, 
who  was  made  for  nothing  but  to  measure  lace  and 
lawns,  should  not  have  given  myself  over  as  a  man 
of  war,  and  boasted  of  deeds  that  I  knew  that  I 
could  not  perform.  It  has  broken  their  mother's 
heart,  and  I  think  it  has  broken  mine.  I  cannot 
think  they  are  gone;  indeed  I  cannot.  Why,  I 
stood  listening  to  their  footsteps  on  the  stairs  even 

22 


338  THE  CRIMSON    SIGN. 

as  I  came  into  your  room,  and  I  heard  them  calling 
4  Daddy, '  every  one  of  them.  But  'tis  a  sin  to 
mourn.  " 

"Nay,  nay,  man,  weep  to  your  heart's  content, 
and  tell  them  I  said  a  man's  tears  are  as  manly 
as  his  courage.  We  must  all  face  it  some  day. " 

"  I  cannot  help  it,  "  said  Simon,  drying  his  eyes, 
"but  you  do  not  know  what  it  is  for  a  father  to 
part  with  the  red-cheeked  boys  he  loved:  we  have 
come  through  a  great  tribulation." 

"  Thank  God  there  is  an  end  of  it  now.  In  a 
day  or  two  there  will  not  be  an  Irish  Regiment 
north  of  the  Boyne,  and  I  hope  we'll  get  back  to 
the  works  of  peace  again.  I  myself  will  turn  hus- 
bandman and  beat  my  sword  into  a  pruning  hook." 

"  And  marry  the  sweet  lass  by  the  Bishop's- Gate, 
and  nurse  your  brave  boys  on  your  knee.  You 
see  we  have  had  eyes,  Mr.  Orme.  " 

"  I  do  not  know  how  that  may  be,  but " 

"  And, "  Simon  went  on,  "  if  you  will  do  me 
the  honour  to  let  me  furnish  you  with  the  wedding 
coat,  I'll  warrant  it  of  the  finest — a  free  gift  at 
my  hands,  for  all  your  kindness  to  me  and  the 
boys.  " 

"  We  must  first  find  the  lady,  "  laughed  Gervase. 

"  I  think  she  is  already  found,  and  I  know  she 
is  very  sweet  to  look  at.  " 

In  the  forenoon  Gervase  found  himself  in  the 
wainscoted  parlour  that  was  for  ever  associated  in 
his  mind  with  Dorothy  Carew.  He  had  dressed 
himself  with  some  care,  and  looked  a  handsome 


THE  VICOMTE'S  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.     339 

fellow  as  he  stood  by  the  window  looking  out  on 
the  grass  plot  that  he  remembered  so  well.  It 
seemed  to  him  years  since  he  had  stood  there;  a 
whole  life  was  crowded  between  that  time  and  this — 
a  life  in  which  he  had  seen  many  strange  sights 
and  come  through  some  memorable  fortunes. 
Dorothy,  he  did  not  doubt,  was  still  the  same,  but 
Macpherson,  so  rugged  and  so  kindly,  was  gone, 
and  the  tragedy  of  his  death  came  vividly  before 
him  as  he  stood  in  the  room  where  he  had  first 
met  the  man  by  whose  hands  he  had  fallen.  He 
was  determined  that  Dorothy  should  never  know 
the  secret  which  could  only  bring  her  grief;  this 
was  the  one  secret  in  which  she  should  not  share. 
It  was  hardly  likely  that  Jasper  Carew  would  ever 
cross  his  path  again— if  he  did  it  would  then  be 
time  enough  to  think  in  what  manner  he  should 
deal  with  him.  In  the  meantime  here  was  Arcady 
with  the  pipe  and  the  lute,  with  the  springtime 
crowned  with  the  sweetest  love,  and  care  and  sor- 
row laid  aside  for  a  season.  His  heart  seemed  to 
rise  into  his  throat  and  a  mist  to  cloud  his  eyes,  as 
he  heard  a  light  footstep  behind  him.  The  gallant 
speeches  that  he  had  been  rehearsing  vanished  from 
his  memory,  and  he  stood  with  his  mind  all  blank 
as  Dorothy  came  softly  into  the  room,  with  her  hand 
extended,  and  her  eyes  cast  down.  Her  manner 
was  awkward  and  constrained,  though  he  did  not 
notice  it.  He  would  have  held  her  hand  in  his  but 
she  withdrew  it  gently  and  seated  herself  by  the 
window. 


340  THE  CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"  Dorothy,  Miss  Carew, "  he  began,  with  an  over- 
mastering desire  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  "  my 
words  have  come  true,  the  words  I  spoke  that  last 
afternoon  when " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  remember." 

"I  said  when  we  next  met  the  joybells  would 
be  ringing.  Listen,  you  can  hear  them  now;  the 
old  time  is  all  gone." 

"Yes,  it  is  all  gone — and — and,  Mr.  Orme,  I 
cannot  say  all  that  is  in  my  heart.  The  city  is 
ringing  with  your  great  exploit,  but  I  knew  it  all. 
All  the  night  I  watched  you  as  you  floated  down 
the  dark  tide.  Oh!  it  was  a  gallant  deed;  no  man 
ever  did  a  braver.  You  did  not  tell  me  what  was 
in  your  mind,  but  I  felt  and  knew  it.  I  knew  you 
would  not  fail." 

"I  want  no  other  reward  but  to  hear  you  say 
that.  But  you  must  not  praise  me  overmuch,  for  I 
have  done  nothing  but  my  plain  and  simple  duty. 
When  I  look  back  on  it,  it  has  seemed  an  easy 
thing  to  do.  There  was  no  risk  like  what  I  ran 
with  Sarsfield's  troopers,  when  you — nay,  I  had  not 
thought  to  have  awakened  that  memory." 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  that  either, "  she  said,  "  I 
was  a  girl  then,  but  I  am  a  woman,  and  I  think  a 
very  old  woman,  now,"  she  added  with  a  sad 
smile.  "  I  owe  you  a  great  deal  since  we  first  met. 
I  shall  never  be  able  to  repay  you,  but  when  we 
part,  and  perhaps  I  shall  not  see  you  again,  I 
shall  remember  your  kindness  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  We  have  not  parted  yet, "  said  Gervase,  trying 


THE   VICOMTE'S   GREAT   RENUNCIATION.       341 

to  take  her  hand.  "Dorothy,  I  have  come  here  to 
speak  what  I  have  not  dared  to  say  before.  Nay, 
nay,  you  must  listen  to  me,  for  all  our  life  depends 
on  it.  From  the  first  moment  that  we  met,  I  have 
had  one  thought,  one  hope.  I  have  watched  you 
in  silence,  for  it  was  not  a  time  to  talk  of  love. 
Every  day  on  duty,  every  night  on  guard,  you 
have  been  with  me  consoling  and  sustaining  me. 
I  have  no  words  to  tell  you  all  that  I  would  tell 
you.  I  have  reproached  myself  for  my  selfishness. 
While  others  were  overcome  with  their  misery,  I 
went  about  with  a  light  and  joyous  heart;  it  was 
enough  for  me  to  be  near  you,  to  feel  your 
presence,  to  serve  you  with  my  life.  Dorothy,  I 
love  you." 

"  Oh!  I  cannot  hear  you,"  she  cried,  rising  to  her 
feet  and  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands;  "it  is  wrong 
for  me  to  listen  to  you." 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  best  beloved,  you  shall  listen  to 
me,"  he  went  on,  with  all  a  lover's  gentle  but 
fierce  insistence.  "  You  have  spoken  words  that 
you  cannot  recall.  All  the  night  in  the  river  and 
in  the  woods  they  rang  like  music  in  my  ears,  and 
kept  my  heart  from  failing  in  me.  I  knew  you 
loved  me." 

"  I  will  not  hear  you,"  she  cried ;  "  they  were  weak 
words  and  wicked.  I  had  no  right  to  speak  them." 

"But  they  were  true,"  he  said,  with  no  clue  to 
her  meaning,  "and  I  will  hold  you  to  your  words. 
I  dare  not  let  you  go;  there  is  nothing  stands 
between  us  and  nothing  will." 


342  THE  CRIMSON    SIGN. 

"Everything  stands  between  us."  Then  with  a 
great  effort  she  calmed  herself  and  went  on  gently, 
"  My  words  were  wrung  from  me,  I  should  not 
have  spoken  them,  but  I  stand  by  them — they  were 
the  truth.  I  do  love  you.  Nay,  you  must  hear  me 
out;  you  must  not  come  nearer,  now  nor  ever  again. 
When  they  were  spoken  I  had  no  right  to  speak 
them ;  I  was  the  betrothed  wife  of  Victor  De 
Laprade. " 

He  stared  at  her  incredulously. 

"  I  was  alone ;  there  was  no  one  to  whom  I  could 
go  for  advice.  I  was  only  a  girl;  I  did  not  know 
my  own  heart.  Then  the  Vicomte  de  Laprade  was 
struck  down  unfairly  by  my  brother  to  whom  he 
had  given  back  his  fortune  and— and  I  thought  he 
was  going  to  die.  What  reparation  I  could  make, 
it  was  my  duty  and  my  will  to  make.  I  had  not 
thought  of  love — or  you.  Oh!  why  did  you  speak 
to  me?" 

"  Nay,  but,  Dorothy,  this  means  the  sacrifice  of 
your  life.  De  Laprade  is  generous.  He  will  not 
ask " 

She  turned  to  him  with  a  look  of  pride  in  her 
tearful  eyes.  "  He  will  never  know,  for  I  shall  stand 
loyally  by  the  word  that  I  have  given  him.  I  shall 
school  my  feelings;  I  shall  subdue  myself;  I  shall 
rise  above  my  wayward  thoughts.  And  you  will 
help  me.  You  will  say,  '  Farewell,  my  sister ',  and 
think  of  me  always  as  a  sister  you  have  loved  and 
is  dead." 

"But  consider " 


THE  VICOMTE'S  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.     343 

"  I  consider  all.  When  he  lay  there  dying,  faithful, 
loyal,  as  he  is,  I  thought  I  loved  him  and  I  brought 
him  back  to  life.  My  love,  worthless  as  it  is,  is 
precious  to  him,  and  there  is  one  Carew  who  keeps 
her  word  at  any  cost.  Speak  no  more  to  me  of  love. 
You  demean  yourself  and  me.  I  belong  to  another. " 

"  Oh !  this  is  madness, "  Gervase  cried,  knowing 
in  his  heart  that  he  could  not  change  nor  turn  her. 
"  There  is  no  code  of  honour  in  the  world  to  make 
you  give  your  life  to  one  you  do  not  love.  Such 
marriage  is  no  true  marriage.  You  are  mine  by 
every  right,  and  I  will  not  let  you  go." 

"  There  was  a  time  when  I  should  have  liked  to 
hear  you  talk  like  that,  but  it  will  never  be  again. 
I  shall  give  him  all  duty  and  honour,  and  in  time, 
perhaps — you  will  help  me  to  bear  my  burden, 
Gervase  Orme,  nor  make  it  heavier  for  me  ?  I  see 
my  duty  clearly,  and  all  the  world  will  not  drive 
me  from  it." 

Gervase  took  her  two  hands,  feverish  and  trembling 
in  his  own.  He  saw  there  was  no  need  for  further 
argument;  he  could  not  change  her. 

"  I  have  no  gift  of  speech  to  show  you  what  you 
do.  Your  will  has  been  my  law  and  I  shall  try  to 
obey  you  utterly.  God  knows  I  loved  you,  Miss 
Carew,  and  still  love  you.  But  you  will  hear  no 
more  of  me  nor  my  importunate  love ;  there  is  room 
abroad  for  a  poor  soldier  like  myself.  And  De 
Laprade  is  a  gallant  gentleman  and  worthy  of  his 
splendid  fortune.  I  can  say  no  more  than  that  I 
envy  him  with  all  my  heart." 


344  THE    CRIMSON   SIGN. 

He  drew  her  to  him  unresistingly,  and  kissed  her 
on  the  forehead.  There  was  nothing  lover-like  in 
the  act;  it  was  simply  in  token  of  sorrowful  sur- 
render, and  she  recognized  it  as  such.  She  did  not 
dare  to  raise  her  eyes  to  his  but  kept  them  bent 
upon  the  ground;  he  could  see  the  lashes  were 
trembling  with  unshed  tears. 

"I  knew,"  she  said,  "you  would  speak  as  you 
have  spoken.  It  was  my  duty  to  see  you;  it  is 
very  hard.  You  will  go  now?" 

"  I  will  go,  Miss  Carew,  and  I  ask  you  to  re- 
member that  through  life,  in  good  and  evil  fortune, 
you  have  no  more  loving  and  loyal  friend  than 
Gervase  Orme,  your  faithful  servant.  Time  will  not 
change  nor  alter  me.  It  was  too  great  fortune  for 
me  to  deserve  it." 

Before  she  could  speak  he  was  gone,  and  she 
heard  in  a  dream  the  door  close  behind  him.  One 
of  his  gloves  had  fallen  to  the  ground  and  was 
still  lying  at  her  feet.  She  caught  it  up  and  pressed 
it  passionately  against  her  bosom.  She  was  now 
able  to  read  her  own  heart  in  all  its  depth  and 
fulness;  standing  there  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
door  through  which  he  had  departed,  she  saw  the 
greatness  of  the  sacrifice  she  had  made.  She  felt 
that  moment  that  she  stood  utterly  alone,  closed  out 
from  all  love  and  sympathy.  She  had  believed  that 
she  had  become  resigned,  and  that  she  had  succeeded 
in  mastering  her  feelings,  but  they  had  burst  out 
afresh  and  with  a  fervour  and  passion  that  terrified 
herself.  "Oh!  God,"  she  cried,  "how  I  love  him!  " 


THE  VICOMTE'S  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.     345 

Throwing  herself  in  the  chair  from  which  she 
had  risen,  and  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  she 
gave  way  to  her  sorrow,  feeling  all  the  while  that 
she  dare  not  reason  with  herself,  for  however  much 
she  suffered  she  determined  that  she  would  not 
break  her  faith.  She  would  bring  herself  to  love 
De  Laprade ;  love  him  as  she  honoured  and  admired 
him,  the  loyal  and  courteous  gentleman,  who  treated 
her  rather  as  a  goddess  than  as  a  woman. 

She  did  not  hear  the  •  footsteps  coming  from  the 
open  window ;  she  was  thinking  at  the  moment  of 
how  she  could  meet  her  betrothed  with  an  air  of 
gaiety.  Then  a  hand  was  laid  lightly  on  her  shoul- 
der and  she  looked  up.  De  Laprade  was  standing 
over  her,  with  a  pleasant  smile  playing  about  his 
lips.  His  face  was  pale  and  his  voice  trembled  a 
little  when  he  spoke,  but  only  for  a  moment;  other- 
wise his  manner  was  free  and  pleasant,  with  something 
of  his  old  gaiety  in  it. 

"I  am  a  dull  fellow,  Cousin  Dorothy,"  he  said, 
"but  a  dull  fellow  sometimes  awakens,  and  I  have 
aroused  myself.  I  have  been  sleeping  for  weeks, 
I  think,  with  dreams  too,  but  poof!  they  are  gone. 
You  have  been  weeping — that  is  wrong.  The  eyes 
of  beauty  should  ever  be  undimmed." 

She  did  not  answer  him,  and  he  sat  down  on  the 
chair  beside  her,  taking  Orme's  glove  from  her  lap 
where  it  lay,  and  examining  the  embroidery  criti- 
cally. "Monsieur  "Orme  is  a  pretty  fellow,  and  I 
have  much  regard  for  him.  I  am  going  to  make 
you  very  happy,  my  cousin." 


346  THE    CRIMSON   SIGN. 

"I  am  not " 

"  Nay,  I  know  what  you  would  say.  But  I  have 
a  long  story  to  tell,  so  long  that  I  know  not  how 
to  begin,  nor  how  to  make  an  end.  It  will  be  easier 
by  what  you  call  a  parable." 

Dorothy  looked  at  her  lover  curiously.  For  some 
time  his  old  manner  of  jesting  with  something  of 
gay  cynicism  about  it  had  disappeared,  but  all  at 
once  it  had  returned  with  something  else  she  did 
not  recognize.  He  could  not  have  learned  her  secret, 
for  she  had  guarded  that  too  carefully,  but  her 
woman's  instinct  warned  her  that  perhaps  after  all 
he  had  guessed  the  truth. 

"There  was  once,"  he  went  on,  "a  prodigal  who 
spent  his  youth  in  his  own  way ;  he  drank,  he  diced, 
he  knew  not  love  nor  reverence;  no  law,  but  that 
poor  thing  that  men  call  honour.  But  it  was  well 
he  knew  even  that.  So  far,  he  did  not  think,  for 
he  had  no  mind  nor  heart.  He  only  lived  for 
pleasure.  Then  he  found  that  he  had  spent  his 
fortune,  burst  like  a  bubble,  gone  like  a  dream,  and 
his  friends — they  were  many — left  him  to  beg  with 
his  outstretched  hands,  and  turned  their  faces  as  he 
passed  them  on  the  way.  But  he  had  grown  old, 
and  loved  pleasure  and  the  delights  of  riotous  living. 
Then  there  came  to  him  a  great  good  fortune — to 
him  unworthy,  beggared,  disgraced.  He  seized  it 
eagerly  and  he  thought — what  will  men  think  ? — 
that  he  would  again  be  happy.  It  was  not  to  be. 
He  carried  with  him  the  stain  of  his  early  riot,  the 
shame  of  his  sinful  life,  the  thoughts  that  will  not 


THE  VICOMTE'S  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.     347 

die,  the  habits,  even,  he  could  not  alter.  His  fortune 
hung  heavily  about  his  neck  and  pressed  him  down 
to  the  ground.  He  knew  that  it  was  of  priceless 
value,  but  it  was  not  for  him.  Then  being  a  wise 
prodigal,  he  said:  'I  am  selfish.  This  cannot  make 
me  happy.  I  will  place  it  in  the  hands  of  another 
who  will  know  how  to  use  it  rightly,  and  so  rid 
me  of  my  load.'  And  he  gave  the  treasure  to 
another,  and  then  went  away  and  the  world  saw 
him  not  any  more.  There,  my  cousin,  is  my  story. 
Monsieur  La  Fontaine  must  look  to  his  laurels." 

"You  are  jesting  with  me,  Victor;  I  do  not  under- 
stand your  parable." 

"  It  must  be  that  I  shall  speak  more  plainly.  My 
story  must  have  its  moral." 

He  still  held  Orme's  glove  upon  his  knee  and  was 
unconsciously  plucking  to  pieces  the  lace  with  which 
it  was  embroidered.  But  neither  of  them  noticed 
it.  Dorothy  was  waiting  breathlessly  for  what  was 
to  come,  and  determined  on  her  part  to  refuse  the 
generous  offer  De  Laprade  was  about  to  make. 

"  It  shames  me  to  think  I  was  an  unwilling  listener 
but  now,  and  I  heard,  not  all,  but  enough.  The 
window  was  open  and  I  heard  before  I  could  with- 
draw. But  I  had  known  it  all  before  and  was  only 
waiting. "' 

"  You  shall  not  wait, "  Dorothy  cried  impetuously. 
"I  am  true  and  loyal." 

"  I  never  doubted  you,  but  I  am  not  I  am  incon- 
stant as  the  wind,  and  change  my  mind  a  hundred 
times  a  day.  Fortune,  not  love,  is  my  goddess,  the 


348  THE    CRIMSON   SIGN. 

fickle  and  the  strange.  I  am  out  of  humour  already 
and  long  for  change.  Your  city  chokes  me,  a  bird 
of  prey  mewed  up  among  the  sparrows.  You  must 
cut  the  silken  thread  and  give  me  my  freedom,  ma 
belle." 

u  I  shall  never,"  Dorothy  said,  disregarding  the 
words  and  thinking  only  of  the  spirit  that  prompted 
them,  "I  shall  never  forgive  the  weakness  I  have 
shown.  Indeed  you  have  my  regard  and  my  esteem, 
and  some  time  I  hope  you  will  have  my  love.  I 
shall  keep  my  faith,  truly  and  loyally.  I  shall  not 
change. " 

"Then  I  must  help  myself  when  you  will  not.- 
You  are  cruel,  my  cousin,  and  force  me  to  speak. 
I,  Victor  De  Laprade,  a  poor  gentleman,  having 
found  that  in  all  honour  I  cannot  marry  Dorothy 
Carew,  here  declare  that  I  am  a  pitiful  fellow  and 
leave  her  to  go  my  own  way,  hoping  that  she  will 
trouble  me  no  further  with  her  importunity.  Now, 
that  being  done,  let  us  be  friends,  which  we  should 
never  have  been  had  you  married  me." 

"  This  is  like  you,  Victor, "  she  said  sadly ;  "  I 
am  a  pitiful  creature  when  I  measure  myself 
with  you." 

"  You  are  a  woman,  my  dear ;  I  have  served 
them  long  and  bought  my  knowledge  dearly.  But 
you  are  better  than  most  of  them,"  he  added  with 
a  smile,  "  for  some  that  I  have  known  would  have 
held  me  despite  all  that  I  have  said.  I  was  not 
made  for  your  Shakespeare's  Benedict,  I  think 
it  was." 


THE  VICOMTE'S  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.     349 

"Oh!"  she  said,  "but  I  cannot  treat  your  words 
as  serious ;  you  are  but  playing  with  my  weakness. 
I  will  not  let  you — how  can  I,  a  woman,  say  what 
I  should  say?" 

"You  should  say:  Monsieur  le  Vicomte,  I  am 
happy  that  you  have  discovered  yourself  in  time. 
You  are  free — go — farewell  ?  " 

"But  I  cannot  say  that." 

"Then  I  shall  do  it  for  you.  My  cousin,"  he 
went  on,  more  seriously,  "my  mind  is  made  up. 
To-morrow  I  start  again  on  my  pilgrimage,  and 
you  are  as  free  as  air.  Do  not  think  that  your 
words  have  pained  me,  for  I  have  long  known  that 
I  was  unworthy  and  I  myself  almost  desire  to  be 
free.  We  cannot  live  twice." 

"You  are  too  generous." 

"  By  no  means.  I  am  only  a  prodigal ;  even 
this  treasure  I  could  not  keep,  but  I  must  let  it 
slip  through  my  fingers  with  the  rest.  Now  I  shall 
leave  you  to  think  upon  what  I  have  said.  Do 
not  judge  me  hardly." 

"I  shall  think  of  you  always  as  the  best  gentle- 
man in  the  world.  Oh  !  Victor,"  she  cried,  as  though 
interrogating  herself,  "why  cannot  I  love  you?" 

"  Because,  my  dear,  I  would  not  let  you.  There 
is  but  one  thing  more  to  do  and  then  I  leave  your 
cold  North  for  ever  to  seek  my  fortune  elsewhere. 

'Et  je  m'en  vais  chercher  du  repos  aux  enfers.' 

I    shall    send    you    a    peace-offering    that    I    know 


350  THE   CRIMSON    SIGN. 

you    will   receive  as  much  for  my  sake  as  its  own. 
And  now  I  kiss  your  hand." 

He  had  borne  himself  throughout  with  a  cheerful 
gaiety,  never  once  complaining  or  reproaching  her, 
but  placing  himself  in  the  wrong  as  though  he  were 
to  blame  for  her  inconstancy.  She  knew  that  he 
was  only  playing  a  part  and  that  he  was  suffer- 
ing while  he  jested ;  that  he  was  making  his 
sacrifice  in  such  a  way  as  to  avoid  giving  her  pain. 
She  reproached  herself  bitterly  that  she  had  been 
unable  to  control  her  heart  and  guide  her  wayward 
feelings.  It  was  true  she  had  been  loyal  in  outward 
act  but  her  heart  had  been  a  traitor  to  her  vow. 
She  was  not  worthy  of  so  much  heroic  sacrifice ; 
she  was  but  a  Carew  after  all,  with  the  taint  and 
sin  of  her  race  ;  she,  who  had  cried  out  for  loyalty 
and  truth.  She  had  boasted  of  her  strength  and 
constancy,  and  this  man  who  had  laughed  at  virtue 
had  shown  a  sovereign  strength  that  put  her  quite 
to  shame.  What  had  been  done  would  never  be 
undone;  her  weakness,  her  want  of  faith,  her  treachery 
of  affection,  had  been  made  plain  to  the  two  men 
whose  regard  she  esteemed  the  most  in  the  world. 
Yet  all  the  time  she  had  tried  to  follow  the  path 
of  duty ;  she  had  striven  to  do  what  was  right  and 
trample  her  inclinations  under  foot. 

And  so  she  sat  and  thought  while  De  Laprade 
went  out  to  complete  the  great  work  of  his  renun- 
ciation. He  smiled  bitterly  to  himself  as  he  passed 
down  the  street,  wondering  what  sudden  change 


THE  VICOMTE'S  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.     351 

had  taken  place  within  himself  that  he  had  surrendered 
so  easily  what  he  had  so  earnestly  desired  to  obtain. 
He  knew  that  he  loved  Dorothy  Carew  as  he  had 
never  loved  before,  and  that  he  had  never  loved  her 
half  so  well  as  that  moment  when  he  bade  her 
farewell.  He  was  unable  to  recognize  himself  or 
the  new  spirit  that  had  prompted  this  stupendous 
sacrifice.  "If,"  he  thought,  "I  was  inviting  him 
under  the  walls  to  a  repast  of  steel,  I  should  be 
acting  like  a  sensible  fellow  anxious  to  cure  my 
wounded  honour.  But  that  is  not  my  humour.  I 
think  I  have  lost  all  my  manhood.  Oh !  my  cousin, 
you  have  taken  from  me  more  than  you  will  ever 
dream  of.  It  was  hard  to  bear,  but  now  that  it  is 
done  it  will  not  have  to  be  done  again.  A  year 
ago  I  had  not  given  up  so  easily,  but  the  battle  is 
to  the  strong.  Orme  will  make  her  happy." 

Gervase  was  surprised  to  see  De  Laprade  entering 
his  room,  and  though  he  bore  him  no  ill  will,  he 
would  have  preferred  that  he  should  not  meet  him. 
He  had  not  yet  faced  his  bitter  disappointment  and 
resigned  himself  to  the  sudden  fall  of  his  house  of 
cards.  He  had  come  home  to  realize  what  his 
rejection  meant  for  him,  for  he  had  been  so  certain, 
so  blindly  certain,  of  Dorothy's  love,  that  she  had 
seemed  a  part,  and  a  great  part,  of  his  life.  The 
cup  of  happiness  had  been  dashed  from  his  hand 
when  it  was  already  at  his  lips ;  he  was  still  smarting 
and  sore,  and  it  would  be  idle  for  him  to  attempt 
to  offer  congratulations  to  his  successful  rival.  He 
was  not  magnanimous  enough  for  that.  But  he 


352  THE    CRIMSON   SIGN. 

wished  him  well  and  wished  that  he  would  leave 
him  in  peace.  He  took  De  Laprade's  hand  without 
ill-will  but  with  no  great  show  of  cordiality. 

"I  could  not  leave  your  city,  Monsieur  Orme," 
said  De  Laprade,  "without  bidding  you  farewell. 
We  have  been  friends,  I  think,  and  done  one 
another  some  service  in  our  time." 

"Your  departure  is  sudden;  I  had  not  heard " 

"Only  an  hour  ago  I  found  that  I  must  leave. 
We  strolling  players  live  at  large,  and  shift  our 
booth  a  hundred  times  a  year." 

"  When  do  you  return  ? " 

"I  disappear  for  ever,"  answered  Victor  with  a 
laugh.  "  Your  country  suits  me  not ;  your  speech  is 
barbarous,  your  manners  are  strange,  and  your  climate 
dries  the  marrow  in  my  bones.  I  want  sunshine 
and  life  and  pleasure.  Your  blood  runs  slowly  here. " 

"  It  has  been  running  fast  enough  for  nine  weeks," 
said  Gervase,  with  a  grim  humour,  though  feeling 
in  no  mood  for  jesting. 

"  Ay,  you  fight  very  prettily,  and  you  not  among 
the  worst,  but  phlegmatically.  I  have  heard  the 
story  of  your  journey,  but  I  did  not  come  to  talk 
of  that." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that  at  least.  I  have  heard  nothing 
else  all  day,  and  'twas  no  great  feat  when  all  was  said. " 

"  Perhaps.  Your  people  are  proud  and  cold  and 
lack  sympathy.  But  I  want  sympathy." 

"  Vicomte  de  Laprade,"  said  Gervase,  "I  am  in 
no  mood  for  playing  upon  words.  I  tell  you  that 
I  am  but  now  bearing  a  great  trial,  the  nature  of 


THE  VICOMTE'S  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.     353 

which  no  man  can  know  but  myself,  you,  perhaps, 
least  of  all.  I  sincerely  value  your  friendship;  I 
have  seen  your  goodness  of  heart,  but  it  is  best 
that  you  should  shorten  this  interview.  With  all 
my  heart  I  wish  you  all  good  fortune,  though  I 
shall  not  see  it.  I  leave  by  the  first  ship  for 
Holland." 

"  We  shall  see,  my  friend,  we  shall  see,  but  I 
think  not." 

"How?" 

"  I  said  but  now  you  were  phlegmatic.  I  was  wrong — 
you  are  too  impetuous.  There  are  many  things 
which  you  must  put  in  order  before  you  set  out,  and 
perhaps  you  will  never  take  ship  at  all." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Orme,  I  know  you  think  I  am  laughing  at 
you,  but  it  is  only  a  trick  that  I  have,  and  I  am  in 
no  mood  for  jesting  any  more  than  yourself.  I  know 
you  think  me  a  coxcomb,  a  trifler  who  hath  no  depth 
or  height  of  feeling.  But  I  am  come  here  to  speak 
serious  words.  I  had  hoped  to  marry  Miss  Carew," 
he  continued  softly,  looking  Gervase  full  in  the  face 
with  his  eyes  fixed  and  bright,  "but  that  is  past. 
I  found  that  she  loved  a  better  man  and  a  worthier 
than  myself,  and  that  I — perhaps  that  I  did  not  love 
her  as  she  deserved  to  be  loved.  With  a  deep 
sense  of  honour,  duty  merely — mistaken  duty — she 
would  have  remained  steadfast  and  allowed  me  to 
mar  her  happiness.  I  tell  you — why  should  I  not 
speak  it? — I  loved  her  too  well  to  marry  her,  and 
she  is  free  to  give  herself  to  the  man  she  loves.  I 

23 


354  THE  CRIMSON  SIGN. 

owe  this  speech  to  her,  for  she  hath  suffered,  and 
I  would  not  add  to  her  sorrow." 

The  two  men  had  risen  to  their  feet,  and  before 
Gervase  knew  De  Laprade  was  holding  him  by  the 
hand,  with  the  tears  running  down  his  face. 

"  God  knows,"  said  Gervase,  steadying  his  voice, 
for  he  felt  himself  visibly  affected  by  the  other's 
excessive  emotion,  "  you  are  a  far  better  and  stronger 
man  than  I  am.  I  could  not  have  given  her  up." 

"  I  am  a  weak  fool, "  said  De  Laprade,  with  a 
forced  laugh.  "  But  I  know  that  you  will  make  her 
happy.  You  must  not  tell  her  of  my  weakness 
else — There,  the  comedy  is  played  out  and  the  cur- 
tain having  fallen,  leaves  me  a  sensible  man  again. 
As  I  have  said,  I  depart  to-morrow,  to  return  never 
again,  but  I  shall  hope  to  hear  that  all  goes  well 
with  you.  And  meantime  remember  Victor  de  La- 
prade, who  will  not  forget  you." 

"  Why, "  cried  Gervase,  "  should  my  happiness  be 
gained  in  your  loss  ?  " 

"  That  is  past, "  the  other  said  simply.  "  You  will 
see  Miss  Carew  when  I  leave  you.  She  will  reproach 
herself,  and  you  will  comfort  her,  for  she  is  only  a 
woman  after  all,  and  will  find  happiness  and  con- 
solation. You  will  sometimes  think  of  me  when  I 
am  gone  and  perhaps — perhaps  she  may  name  one 
of  her  boys  after  her  poor  kinsman  who  by  that 
time  will  have  found  rest" 

When  the  evening  came  down  it  found  Gervase 
Orme  alone  with  a  great  happiness  and  a  great  regret. 

The    curtain   rings    down    and   the   players  pass 


THE  VICOMTE'S  GREAT  RENUNCIATION.     355 

from  view  while  the  humble  showman  to  whom  this 
mimic  stage  has  been  a  great  reality,  wakens  from 
his  dream,  rubs  his  eyes  and  goes  about  his  business. 
He  has  lived  for  a  while  in  the  stormy  days  of 
which  he  has  written — days  in  which  men  made 
heroic  sacrifices  and  performed  most  memorable 
deeds,  the  memory  of  which  still  stirs  the  languid 
pulses  of  the  blood.  Not  the  muse  of  history  has 
been  his  companion ;  not  his  is  the  lofty  task  to 
write  the  story  of  his  people  with  their  valour,  their 
endurance  and  their  intolerant  pride;  it  was  only 
his  to  tell  an  idle  tale  for  weary  men  by  winter 
fires.  The  men  and  women  of  whom  he  has 
written  did  their  work  for  good  and  evil,  and  in 
due  time  went  the  way  of  all  flesh. 

Simon  Sproule  again  blossomed  out  in  the  sun- 
shine of  prosperity,  and  the  archives  of  the  city  show 
that  he  was  elected  an  Alderman,  and  did  his  duty 
faithfully,  which  cannot  be  said  of  all  men.  And 
though  history  is  silent  on  the  subject,  there  can  be 
little  doubt  that  his  wife  stimulated  his  civic  ambi- 
tion, inspired  his  speeches,  and  kept  him  in  excel- 
lent order.  There  are  still  Sproules  in  the  North 
Country  who  look  to  Simon  as  the  head  of  the  race, 
and  when  touched  by  family  pride  they  tell  the 
story  of  his  gallant  deeds  in  the  memorable  siege. 
But  they  will  find  the  true  history  here. 

Jasper  Carew  fell  with  many  a  better  man  on 
that  day  when  the  fate  of  the  kingdom  was  decided 
on  the  banks  of  the  Boyne.  He  was  seen  heading 
the  gallant  charge  of  Berwick's  horse  on  Hanmer's 


356  THE   CRIMSON   SIGN. 

men  coming  out  of  the  river,  and  as  the  smoke  and 
dust  closed  on  the  broken  ranks,  he  went  down  and 
was  never  seen  again. 

Of  Gervase  Orme  there  is  little  more  to  tell.  He 
married  the  woman  he  loved,  and  had  sons  and 
grandsons,  and  served  his  king  like  a  good  and 
loyal  subject.  There  are  certain  manuscripts  extant 
which  speak  of  these  things,  and  an  escritoire  filled 
with  precious  letters  which  came  too  late  to  hand 
to  use  in  this  narrative.  Especially  interesting  are 
certain  letters  relating  to  the  search  after  and 
discovery  of  a  great  treasure.  But  of  all  the  me- 
morials I  think  the  most  precious  is  that  portrait 
in  the  gallery,  of  which  I  have  spoken — the  portrait 
of  Dorothy  Orme  taken  some  two  years  after  her 
marriage.  Above  the  picture  there  hangs  a  rapier, 
whether  by  design  or  by  accident  I  know  not,  which 
they  tell  you  vaguely  belonged  to  a  kinsman  of  the 
lady,  who  had  served  in  Ireland  with  Rosen,  and 
fell  a  year  or  two  afterwards,  a  gallant  gentleman, 
on  the  slopes  of  Steinkirk.  He  had  a  history,  but 
they  do  not  remember  it;  not  even  his  name.  Sic 
nobis. 


THE   END. 


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Is  delightfully  free  from  conventionality  ;  is  breezy,  witty,  and  possessed  of  an 
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PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK 

4(y  For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  mailed  by  the  publishers,  postage  prepaid, 
on  receipt  of  the  price. 


BY   A.   COKAN   DOYLE 


THE  REFUGEES.     A  Tale  of   Two   Continents.     Illustrated. 

Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  75. 

A  masterly  work.  ...  It  is  not  every  year,  or  even  every  decade, 
wliich  produces  one  historical  novel  of  such  quality. — Spectator,  London. 

THE  WHITE  COMPANY.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Orna- 
mental, §1   75. 
.  .  .  Dr.  Doyle's  stirring  romance,  the  best  historical  fiction  he  has 

done,  and  one  of  the  best  novels  of  its  kind  to-day. — Hartford  Courant. 

MICAH  CLARKE.     Illustrated.     Post"  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental, 

$1   75 ;  also  8vo,  Paper,  45  cents. 

A  noticeable  book,  because  it  carries  the  reader  out  of  the  beaten 
track ;  it  makes  him  now  and  then  hold  his  breath  with  excitement ;  it 
presents  a  series  of  vivid  pictures  and  paints  two  capital  portraits ;  and  it 
leaves  upon  the  mind  the  impression  of  well-rounded  symmetry  and  com- 
pleteness.— R.  E.  PROTHEKO,  in  The  Nineteenth  Century. 

ADVENTURES  OF  SHERLOCK  HOLMES.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo, 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50. 

MEMOIRS    OF   SHERLOCK    HOLMES.      Illustrated.     Post   8vo, 

Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1   50. 

Few  writers  excel  Conan  Doyle  in  this  class  of  literature.  His  style, 
vigorous,  terse,  and  thoughtful,  united  to  a  nice  knowledge  of  the  human 
mind,  makes  every  character  a  profoundly  interesting  psychological  study. 
— Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

THE  PARASITE.     A  Story.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Or- 
namental, $1   00. 
A   strange,  uncanny,  weird   story,  .  .  .  easily  the  best  of  its  class. 

The  reader  is  carried  away  by  it,  and  its  climax  is  a  work  of  literary  art. 

—  Cincinnati  Commercial-  Gazette. 

THE  GREAT  SHADOW.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  00. 

A  powerful  piece  of  story-telling.  Mr.  Doyle  has  the  gift  of  descrip- 
tion, and  he  knows  how  to  make  fiction  seem  reality. — Independent,  N.  Y. 


NEW  YORK   AND   LONDON  : 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 

The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  by  the  publiahert, 
postage  prepaid,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


